Return to Shamballa :: Rewrite
by shirozora
Summary: Finding Huskisson's uranium bomb is the least of their problems. DISCONTINUED
1. Prologue

Author's Note: I hate inconsistencies in all things, but here I am, writing one.

Premises: This is post-_Shamballa_, albeit with some events/facts that I've played around to fit the events of this story. It is a combination of anime/mangaverses, so there's plenty of material to play around with.

Any interested shippers ought to know that I have a tendency to pull surprises. You've been warned.

Copyrights: Fullmetal Alchemist © Hiromu Arakawa, Square-Enix, and Bones

**XXX**

**Return to Shamballa // Rewrite**

**«Prologue»**

**XXX**

"What are you doing here? You know you shouldn't be here. This is not your place."

Edward and Alphonse Elric glanced at each other quickly, baffled. The dark-skinned old man grimaced, clutching his wrinkly hands tightly. His impish eyes studied them carefully, watching them weigh his words towards them.

"We don't know what you mean," Ed finally replied, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs.

"Yes, so can you please explain, sir?" Al added politely. He sat up straight, his fingers laced and resting placidly on his lap.

"Why do I need to explain?" the old man asked simply. "Both of you know exactly what I mean. What are you doing here? Why are you here?"

"Everybody asks themselves those questions now and then, you old fart, so get on with it. Tell us why you said what you said," Ed said, growing annoyed at the vague talk.

"Brother…" Al countered disapprovingly.

The old man was smiling, which scrunched up the wrinkly saggy skin on his face.

"This is not your world."

The brothers froze at the fortuneteller's low knowing voice.

"Of-of course it's our world!" Ed protested, desperately overcoming his shock. _Did Noah get her abilities from this old man?_

"It's our home, sir," All added quickly.

The old man smiled. "You may call me Harot. And no. No, no, no. Your home is on the other side, in the parallel universe my people sometimes tells stories about. Mere legends, stories, fables, told by word of mouth and sometimes written in obscure occult books, but here before me is living proof of its existence. And yet…what business do you have with this side of existence? What are you two doing here when this is not your place or time?"

"What do you know?!" Ed snapped, rising to his feet. Al quickly grabbed his sleeve and yanked him back down on the stool he was sitting on. "Brother, don't."

The old man was still smiling, his eyes twinkling strangely. "As I've said, this is not your place. This world is not your world nor your home. My granddaughter has told me everything, and it simply means that you must go home. You are needed there, not here. Here it is too late; you'll never be able to change anything. The war is imminent-"

"I thought the Great War's ended," Ed interjected. "I remember being there in England, but that was years ago!"

"War breeds war, young man, and this is no different. Why do you think my people are moving into the mountains? We are a persecuted, hated people; because we look different and carry on traditions unfamiliar to them, they seek to wipe us out. The ones beginning the next war wants us gone. Dead. They blame my people for losing the Great War and our deaths will be their vengeance. And they had already begun when the Beer Hall Putsch took place, six months ago. My granddaughter was lucky she ran into you, but she won't be lucky next time."

"Then we'll stay and help your people," Al suggested, always the helpful spirit. His eagerness quelled at the weary shake of the fortuneteller's head.

"No, you _cannot_. What she can do with a touch I can do with a mere glance. I know everything, Edward and Alphonse Elric, sons of Hohenheim and Trisha. I know your past, your present, and I can see bits and pieces of your future, a future that would not happen if you do not return to your home. This is not your home, not your world, not your place to be, and the place that will always be your home needs you. You must find a way to go back to the other side, back to the world you abandoned to save it. Do you understand?"

Silence. Al swiveled his eyes to look at Ed, whose head was bowed low. Presently there was a low dark laugh and Ed looked up. "Understand? I don't understand anything you're saying. And why would our world need _us_? What can we do that the others can't?"

"Your world lives under the shadow of a war-"

"I thought we ended the war! If I remember, the Parliament's in control of the country, not the Fuhrer King Bradley!" Al exclaimed. "We stopped the Homunculi, and-and I think Gluttony ate Dante, and Wrath told me to use him and Gluttony to open the Gate from that side-"

"You do not understand, Alphonse Elric," Harot said. "People are strange creatures. They know war, they understand what war does, yet they will stop at nothing to begin wars and win them. And for what? Gold. Glory. God. Anything. Everything. Anything could trigger the war in your world; all that matters, though, is that you go back and help save it. You're right about your war, and your home is still reeling from its effects. It cannot survive another war, not without your help."

He reached for a worn book on his makeshift table, and ran a finger down its ragged spine. The gold ink that gave the book its name had long since worn off and only traces of that precious metal remained.

"I don't know what this has to do with us," Ed said stiffly, "but even if it did, there's no way for us to go back. It's too late, Harot. The transmutation circles had been destroyed by me and that bastard colonel. No one can open the Gate on either side."

Al flinched and looked at Ed nervously, wondering if it really was okay to blatantly talk about their home world's…'quirks'. But the old man seemed to take everything into stride; his eyes were closed and he was nodded slowly, a finger still stroking the spine of the book.

"People are stupid enough to start wars but they are clever enough to seek advantages in order to win them. No matter what the cause of the war is, attention must always be paid to the weapons. If the weapons are of the forbidden sort…I can see in the future what will be unleashed here on Earth. The atrocities to be committed by the National Socialist German Workers' Party, under a new name and the same terrible leader, will be the only thing comparable to the most inhumane weapon of war.

"As for your home, I can see a different kind of weapon. You've faced it before but your enemies were not of the reckless sort; they were desperate but clever. The cause of the war knows hate and desperation and that drives the cause. The weapon will be horrific and unless you destroy the weapon, it will destroy your world, and this world, and you."

XXX

Six months.

Six months since several mysterious ships burst from the center of the earth and shot down nearly every tall building in sight. Six months since the Fullmetal Alchemist suddenly appeared after the infamous two-year disappearance that almost nobody talked about. Six months since he and his famous younger brother vanished. Six months since Corporal Roy Mustang returned from his self-imposed exile to the north, taking command of the forces at Central City and turning the tables on the would-be conqueror of Amestris. Six months since the Parliament restored the Flame Alchemist to his office in Central City, along with all his subordinates and his rank, now upped to Brigadier General.

Six months since the bet among his male subordinates that he and First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye would finally hook up. As far as anyone can tell, the men were all losing. They had been playing it safe and betted, in varying degrees and extremities, for and not against the match.

Instead, the first two months were spent dealing with the chilly air that hung between this one-close duo. Faithful Black Hayate was part of the scheme to break the silence and bring them together, and it involved snow. Rebuilding Central City also helped loosen the tension between the two commanding officers. The next four months was spent watching Central City slowly return to its former glory and dealing with the normalcy that almost seemed to have returned to the office. Everyone didn't mind suffering from Hawkeye's threats to shoot all the men in the office if they didn't finish their paperwork, and they all relished the occasional departures to the four corners of Amestris, and the slowly rising cities of Lior and Ishbal. Traveling as a group, they joked with each other, reminisced on the early days before those unforgettable Elric brothers dragged everyone into the hell already in the making by the Homunculi. Occasionally the men brought Brigadier General Mustang up to date with the goings-on since his exile, but those conversations were always brief and to the point, and no one questioned what he had to deal with in the frigid world.

At these moments, Hawkeye would turn a blind eye and remain silent until something happened to interrupt the hushed conversation, like Black Hayate approaching Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda for a pat on the head. Breda had cynophobia. He feared dogs to an extreme.

There had been the occasional Ishbalan uprising amongst the smaller bands of refugees and Lior had been restless ever since that bizarre event six months ago, but so far nothing serious was happening.

In fact, nothing was happening at all.

Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc yawned, his unlit cigarette hanging in its precarious perch in the corner of his mouth, and stared up at the ceiling. Holes dotted the newly installed tiles and he idly wondered if the pen in his hand, which he loathed so much, would fit into one of the holes. Or perhaps the holes were too big and when he threw his pen it, it would shoot through the tiles and get lost forever, and he'll have no more paperwork, and be free at last, free at last-

"G-get…that beast…away from…m-me…" Breda stammered, his voice quavering. He stared, white-eyed with terror, at the friendly black and white dog lying on the ground a foot from his feet.

Just minutes ago, Hawkeye had caught him slacking off and ordered Black Hayate to guard him until Breda called Hawkeye over to review his finished work. So far, all that happened was the large man's nerves fraying to the point it took fifteen minutes for him to get through one sheet. Havoc watched, quite entertained, at the way Breda would look at his paper, then glance at Black Hayate to make sure the dog didn't move, then look back at his paper, only to glance back at Black Hayate, and so on and so forth.

Pity Breda had so much paperwork today.

Sergeant Major Kain Fuery groaned and slumped in his seat, chin resting on the desk and his glasses dangling from the nose bridge. Fuery then turned his eyes elsewhere, and quickly sat up straight. Warnings went off in Havoc's head and he sat up as well. He looked across the room and met the glaring eyes of the First Lieutenant.

Within seconds, his reflexes kicked in and he was sitting in his chair with his feet square on the floor, his eyes skimming through paragraph after paragraph on the top paper of his pile hurriedly. A few edits and signatures later, Hawkeye turned back to her own paperwork and Havoc relaxed.

Warrant Officer Vato Falman was one lucky bastard; he was out handling business in Investigations and got to escape the dreariness of the office. Today was so wretchedly boring, and if it weren't for Hawkeye, he'd already be sucking on his last cigarette of his daily pack, and not idly chewing on his first and unlit piece.

Speaking of Hawkeye, she's glaring daggers at him again, and her hand's moving at an uncomfortable speed to the holster on her side-

"Sorry, Ma'am," he muttered and dove back into his papers.

He did spare a glance at the Brigadier General, who was lucky thus far to have been spared Hawkeye's wrath.

Mustang was staring down at something on his desk; Havoc noted that though the massive paper pile on his desk had diminished somewhat, the man still had a very long way to go. As he continued to watch, the black-haired man reached up to rub at the left side of his face but stopped short of brushing up against the black eye patch. Havoc winced reflexively. Everyone knew how vision and perception changed, sometimes drastically, when one eye was closed or gone. Things appeared closer or farther, and while some things looked unusually flat, other things popped out.

Would the military ever put the man out in the field again? His rare and terribly useful ability was compromised severely by his limited eyesight, although Havoc recalled with a slow smile how efficient the man was six months ago, when he returned to Central City's headquarters, gloves on, and that fire burning in his one good eye, the fire that had drawn Havoc and Breda and Fuery and Falman and former Lieutenant Colonel Alex Louis Armstrong and Private Sheshka and Second Lieutenant Maria Ross and Sergeant Denny Brosh and the deceased Brigadier General Maes Hughes and Hawkeye and-

_Click_.

Heads shot up and chairs were shoved back as Havoc reacted immediately to the sound and tried to get back to work, but the safety was already off and a bullet hole had appeared on the wall behind him as Havoc ducked, slamming his forehead on the desk. He peeked up, his forehead bright red and throbbing, and smiled meekly at Hawkeye, who was calmly checking her handgun. She then looked straight at him and a chill rushed over him.

"Havoc, get to work."

"yes, Sir-um, Ma'am."

His boredom given a thorough beating, Havoc sighed, switched his unlit cigarette from the left corner to the right corner of his mouth, and returned to work, determined not to stop until he was done.

He's done enough daydreaming for one awfully boring day.

XXX

Two years and several months had done nothing on his nerves. They were frayed beyond repair but he thought he knew the only way to soothe the overflow of fury deep in his chest.

That Fullmetal _bastard_.

Word had it he disappeared for good, taking his tin can of a brother with him-or rather, what was once a tin can. Change had certainly taken its course of the two years he spent trying to recover from the massive explosion at his lab the day he tried to convince Edward Elric that his invention may be useful to the military.

But, of course, alchemists have some unofficial law ordering them to help the people, and what he offered destroyed them.

Hence, the rejection. It didn't sting him. It didn't hurt him.

It floored him. It told him enough, that the alchemists thought pure, hardcore scientists like himself to be near-useless, unworthy of trust. Why couldn't they see that a bomb as destructive as the one he had invented would end wars so much sooner? How many more lives would've been saved, then? How many more buildings would be saved from a razing? How many villages would remain on the map?

A group of lousy State Alchemists could never do what one uranium bomb could, and he knew it.

And yet they _rejected_ him.

Two years and six months. That's how long it's been since they left him in utter ruin, with almost nothing left, not even himself. He'll never forget the two bastards.

Never.

**XXX**

Author's Endnote: It's my first FMA fanfiction and I'm not sure if I should seriously pursue this, as I'm not even that well educated in the manga. Should I continue, or leave this alone and do whatever else in hell I do?

Reviews appreciated.


	2. The Road Far, Far Away

Author's Note: It would be great if there was a website listing every character, his or her background and involvement in the story arch, and maybe a tidbit or two on how they talk and/or fight.

But of course, I'm asking a bit too much here, aren't I? Well, when in doubt, always Wiki.

Standard disclaimers apply.

**XXX**

**Return to Shamballa // Rewrite**

**«1 – The Road Far, Far Away»**

**XXX**

"What do we do now, Brother?" Al asked, quietly.

Ed shrugged and closed his eyes, preferring to feel the cool wind lick his face than think about the disturbing conversation with Noah's grandfather.

_That's where Noah got her ability from, then. How could he know all that with a single glance, though? Impossible…but everything he said was right. I mean, I didn't tell Noah our parents' names and he knew. He _knew_. Does that mean he's telling the truth? About Amestris?_

"I'm sorry," their Roma friend, Noah, said softly. "I should've warned you about my grandfather. He can get pretty straightforward when he meets interesting people."

"It's okay," the younger Elric brother said. "We're just trying to figure out what Harot means-"

"The Gate's closed. We can't go back to our side. He's asking the impossible."

"Nothing's impossible," Noah retorted.

"Naturally," Saree remarked as she twisted in her seat next to the driver and looked at the three young adults sitting in the back. She smiled and tossed her lustrous wavy dark hair, then planted a kiss on the driver's cheek. Leo smirked.

The brothers shuddered, still not used to the two Gypsies they traveled with. Lust and Scar? Ed had explained to Al about the man who looked like King Bradley, Fritz Lang, and his own experiences in his first visit to the other side, which was now this side.

Still, Lust and Scar?

"You think there's other places one can open the Gate?" Al asked as the truck ran over a bump. Ed clutched at his seat, then settled and shrugged.

"Other than actually attempting human transmutation, the only place where the Gate could be opened was the underground city. Since no one on this side can possibly transmute anything, I suppose the only place is the Thule Society's headquarters."

"We destroyed the circles. Should we really draw them again? And if we did, how do we open it?"

"The Eckhart woman had Envy and Father," Ed said.

"I had Wrath and Gluttony."

"Are these…pet names?" Saree asked curiously, looking over her shoulder at them.

"Ah…" The Elric brothers shared a look. "You can say that."

Once Saree turned her attentions back to the countryside and Leo, the siblings went back to discussing, rather fretfully, about their situation.

"Do we even know what it looks like?" Al wondered.

"It should look out of place. If it exploded…the headquarters wouldn't have been there in the first place."

"But that was two years ago. Someone might've come, picked it up, and wandered off."

"It's the headquarters of a secret society, Al. Very few people would be wandering around the place."

"Like you."

"Like me," Ed acknowledged. "And I got lucky, didn't I? You were alive after all."

"So were you," Al said with an overly happy grin. "I knew you were out there somewhere."

Noah smiled as the two brothers laughed and playfully pushed at each other. She had never seen siblings as close as they; so many people had come to her to have their futures read to them and she had seen into their pasts, seen families fall apart and come together and stick together, but these two brothers…they spoke in 'we'.

"Let's stop by and see if Officer Hughes asked Gracia yet!" Al exclaimed.

"Yeah, we should," Ed agreed as he crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. "I bet their first child's going to be a daughter."

"You'd think they'd name her Elysia, too?" Al wondered; he stared up at the clear blue sky and the puffs of white clouds.

"I don't know; wouldn't that be funny? What are the chances that the two Hughes we know marry the two Gracias we know and have two daughters both named Elysia?" Ed replied.

"What would be funny, and impossible…we won't be seeing the two ever again, will we, Brother?"

Ed sighed and shook his head. "No, I don't think so. We won't be staying in Munich for more than a week. Our last week. I think we should contact Fritz about our plans."

"Is it okay to involve him?"

"He's a friend. He said if either of us needed help, we could always give him a call. Besides, he's one of the few people who believe anything we say. I remember what he told me about his dreams compared to what's happening in Germany right now…"

"Is this friend Fritz Jewish?" Saree suddenly asked. The truck heaved over another bump and Noah slid in her seat, slamming into Ed. Al rubbed the back of his head, wincing in pain.

"He's Roman Catholic but his family's Jewish," Ed explained. He shook his head at this; he couldn't understand why people, here and back in Amestris, cared so much about faith and people. Fritz didn't look any different from anybody else but he said he was Jewish. He also said he was a Catholic and when Ed mused about this aloud to Officer Hughes, the man explained that being Jewish meant being part of a people and a religion.

He left Ed even more confused than ever, and a bit bothered by the growing anger towards people who were Jewish or Roma. The last time Leo and Saree visited Ed, Al, and Noah at the flat Ed once shared with Alfons Heiderich, they had to leave their truck at the outskirts, hidden in the brush, and walk in the shadows, shawls and hoods concealing their faces and forms. They had to be careful; smatterings of violence throughout the city had been graphic and against the Jews and Roma. One of the very first victims had been a wealthy one-armed art dealer, a Jew who fought for Germany during the Great War and then was killed by her soldiers, perhaps the same men he had fought with side by side. Rumor had it he was close with Adolf Hitler, one of the leaders of the underground National Socialist German Workers' Party, and an absolutely embarrassing irony for this increasingly powerful anti-Semite political party.

"Why do you ask?" Al questioned.

"Oh, I've heard something about that movie he made-"

"What the-there's a stop up ahead," Leo muttered, slowing the truck down. Al stood up cautiously and his eyes widened at the handful of soldiers massing around the road a good two miles ahead.

"Yar not Aryan, you be?"

The five people in the truck turned to an elderly man, who was leaning on a pitchfork and peering up at them with an impish look that reminded Ed of Harot. At his feet was a large German Shepherd; its pink tongue was lolling out of its mouth and saliva slid out of its mouth. Behind the two was a farmhouse and two green fields; Al looked around and saw that they were still in the middle of nowhere. Farmland went on and on for miles.

"That depends, old man," Saree said coolly, regarding her with the face that made the Elric brothers shudder.

"Yar best not go thataways, then," the German farmer said, nodding towards the mass up the road. "They been stopping and looting any without thar papers, and if yar papers says yar not be Aryans, trouble be bound."

Leo growled deep in his throat and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Noah shuddered and pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders.

"Is there a shortcut?" Saree asked curtly.

"It be around me land and into the forests. It's dangerous. I think yar should just go back. Sorry I can't help."

The old farmer hobbled off but the dog stayed behind, wagging his dark powerful tail and panting up at them. Ed and Al were reminded rather fondly of Winry Rockbell's Den and First Lieutenant Hawkeye's Black Hayate.

_I wonder how they're doing. Ever since Eckhart decided to invade…_

"What do we do?" Saree asked, looking pointedly at Ed and Al.

"We could probably pass off as Aryans," Ed began.

"But we'd rather not be looted in the process," Al finished. "We got no papers."

A heavy silence. Ed swore.

"If only alchemy worked here…" he finally declared, sinking in his seat, arms crossed tightly over his chest. "I could do something about those soldiers…"

"Wait, Brother." Al quickly turned to him. "Remember the first time that Eckhart woman tried to come over to our-I mean, the other side? You said you did something to the transmutation circle and that brought all those dead soldiers back here. How'd you do it?"

"How'd I do it?" Ed echoed. He tugged at his long ponytail as he tried to recall details that were six months old and mostly nonexistent. "I…there was a cut on my face…I touched the circle…blood, my blood."

The brothers stared at each other. The three Gypsies glanced at them, not quite understanding their conversation.

"Blood?" Al asked weakly. "Brother, we need _blood_?"

"Father said there's really no such thing as Equivalent Exchange because when we perform a transmutation, a little bit of energy comes in from the outside, from us. So maybe that's what the blood did."

"I know Wrath told me to use him and Gluttony to act as the exchange but-"

"This is a different world, Al. I guess blood is the answer-"

"I suppose…the least we can do is look like two idiots, right, Brother?"

Ed laughed. "Just like old times."

He swung over the side of the truck, using his auto-mail arm to support his weight. Al jumped over after him and stumbled upon landing. Ed caught him quickly, then looked down the road to the roadblock.

"We could just shoot a pillar of earth under them," Al remarked as he dusted himself of half-dried mud from the road.

"I was thinking along the lines of doing something a little more…_dramatic_," Ed remarked, a smirk on his face.

XXX

Heinrich Goethe was _bored_. He was, God as his witness, so God-awfully bored he wanted to snatch the smoking cigarette out of his closest soldier companion's mouth and smash it on his head. Adolf Hitler, head of the National Socialist party, abhorred cigarettes, among other things like drinking and sleeping around with prostitutes, but his rules were rarely followed by the common follower.

"Don't look at me like that," Jackob Havers muttered as he switched his roll from left to right. "It's not my fault you signed up for this outpost, being the perfect soldier you are for the nonexistent army."

Their portly companion, Albert Johannes, snorted. "Outpost? You call this an outpost? They might as well have dumped us in the countryside to _die_. We're in the middle of nowhere-"

"The Fatherland," Heinrich interjected.

"Nowhere!"

He gestured to the never-ending fields of green things, with the occasional farmhouse here and there.

"Hey, how's this for passing some time? Jackob suggested with some glee. "Thirty marks that damn farmer's dog comes over and gives Johannes a heart attack."

Albert glared at him. "Go to hell, Havers."

The other members of their outfit, who weren't so friendly with them, were sitting on the other side of the road, drinking out of their military-issue canteens and smoking the hell out of their measly supplies of cigarettes.

"Lucky Kaine," Jackob muttered. "I bet he's having more fun than we are."

"Right," Albert snorted. "Being stationed in Munich is _so_ much fun, especially since that incident with the Thule Society-"

"Shut up!" one of the other soldiers hissed. "Don't mention that name, _ever_."

"Yeah, Johannes," another replied, his blue eyes wide with horror. "You have no idea what happened and I don't want you reminding me."

"Oh, you were there?" Jackob asked, interested.

Heinrich sighed and looked up and down the lonely dirt road. Nothing, other than that old farmer and his huge dog walking through the tall green crop towards…damn hill was in the way.

"So how's our old friend Janzen, eh?"

"Haven't heard from him directly, but Hughes says it's not good."

"Tsk, tsk, I _told_ him not to get involved with those snobbish French bastards-"

"For _your_ information, she's _not_ a bastard!" Jackob snapped, clenching his teeth, nearly cutting through his cigarette.

"Touché," one of the other soldiers laughed. "Looks like you've got a soft spot for the French bi-"

Ah, the farmer and his dog had approached a truck that had stopped near his lonely home. Heinrich shrugged and looked elsewhere, though deep inside him there was a faint hope that something interesting would happen today. Like that truck getting stopped by him and his soldier companions.

He watched as the farmer and, later, the dog returned to the house. Then two people jumped off the truck and knelt down, doing something to the ground. A glint of metal, and the sunlight reflected so strongly Heinrich winced.

The others had stopped discussing a former colleague to see what it was that got Heinrich's attention.

Then Jackob gasped and the other soldiers started whispering in wonder as blue sparks exploded from the ground where the two people were kneeling.

Then…the ground was shaking…the soldiers were staring in horror as a monstrous thing formed from the earth…sculpt like a massive hand, it stretched higher into the sky, feeding off the ground…Heinrich tried but could not hold back a curse as something straight out of a nightmare came crashing down on his head-

XXX

Leo was shaking his head. "I think you overdid it."

The others were still staring at the odd smirk on Ed's face. He looked like the whole world had been given to him as a gift. He totally ignored the nasty gash on his left arm, still dripping with fresh blood.

"Still," Al murmured, staring at the nick on his arm, "I don't think it's worth it."

"Not worth it?" Ed turned on his younger sibling. "Al, this means we _can_ do alchemy here after all! As long as we draw the right circles and use a little bit of blood-"

"That's exactly the problem, Brother!" Al exclaimed. "Blood! Ed, I don't want anyone getting hurt just so we can do alchemy again. Remember what you told me? You said we have to get used to living without alchemy. I like living without alchemy, Ed, at least in this world."

A frown formed on Ed's face as he watched his brother rub at the dark reddish brown crust on his arm. "Maybe…"

"You just want to go home, kid. That's all," Saree supplied. "Hop in, now that you got those soldiers out of the way."

The two boys slowly clambered back into the back of the truck and Leo stepped on the gas.

As they passed by the stone structure imprisoning the group of soldiers, Saree turned to look over her shoulder at the Elric brothers. "Listen, I don't know much about alchemy but I know it was a part of your life. Just don't use it excessively in this world. Ever since the incident six months ago, people have gotten suspicious. Something funny happens, they either go to the police or take matters into their own hands."

"They've been blaming us for it," Noah said softly. "Us and the Jewish people."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the occupants of the truck as it continued its march to Munich.

"…I just want to go home…" Ed murmured, so low only Al and Noah heard him. "That's all…"

XXX

The day before had been a bit more like the old days. Brigadier General Mustang had been slacking off again…until a well-placed bullet forced him back to work. Fuery had mentioned a box of kitties delivered to his door and everyone jumped in his face for it. In the end, Falman had to supervise him to the pound with the box of kittens. The receptionist had told the poor man in a kindly voice that he needn't worry; these kittens will most _certainly_ find good homes. Falman wasn't sure whether to frown or smile at the tears of sorrow streaming down the poor kind-hearted man's face.

Havoc had tried to be sneaky about lighting his cigarette but didn't quite pull it off and Breda had been smart enough to bring a roast beef sandwich into the office as a snack. He hadn't been able to get rid of Black Hayate since 1045. The poor man was sweating buckets when everyone left.

Today was no different. Hawkeye had confiscated Havoc's lighter again, Fuery was still lamenting about the kittens, and Breda looked haggard. He kept muttering under his breath over and over again:

"Doggie bowl…doggie bowl…doggie bowl…doggie bowl…"

Mustang was trying his best not to doze off over some papers regarding etiquette among new recruits to the military. Hawkeye had just finished adjusting her hairclip – she hadn't cut her hair in the longest time, which made it infinitely more difficult for her to keep it all in a tightly controlled bun – and was busy searching for her pens.

That was when Falman, who had been called to Investigations a few minutes ago, returned with a folder and a stern frown on his face.

He headed straight to Hawkeye's desk and handed it to her, along with some words. He returned to his desk, leaving her staring at him, her brown eyes wide and her mouth slightly open.

If Falman's abrupt return hadn't caught everyone's attention, the look on Hawkeye's face was. Since when did Hawkeye ever let shock or surprise show on her normally emotionless face?

"Lieutenant?" Mustang asked. "Is something wrong?"

Her jaw snapped shut, her face became a mask again, and she stood up abruptly, folder in hand. "Sir, I think you need to look at this, immediately."

She walked over, handed him the folder, and took a step back, watching him as he opened the folder and pulled out several papers and a photograph.

"Wait a minute…" His visible eyebrow rose up, then lowered as a frown grew on his face. "Falman, are you sure of this?"

"Investigations hasn't been wrong since Parliament took over, Sir," Falman replied stiffly.

"Chief, what's going on?" Havoc called out.

"I thought Fullmetal dealt with him," Mustang said to Hawkeye and Falman, ignoring Havoc's question.

The other three men looked at each other. Fullmetal was involved? The incredibly famous near-legendary Fullmetal? Everyone knew that despite the visible hatred between the once-colonel and former major, the Brigadier General had a soft spot for the tough teenager and his younger brother. No wonder he trusted the alchemist to deal with this situation without Mustang having to clean up.

"Everybody thought so, Sir," the man answered. "When several people at Investigations began noticing kidnappings in the towns and villages, they found clues leading to him. He's been kidnapping Ishbalans, too, Sir. It's been going on for several months, actually."

"They haven't found him, have they?" Hawkeye asked.

"What are they talking about?" Fuery looked at Havoc and Breda, but all three men were equally clueless about this situation.

Mustang frowned deeply. "I guess we'll just have to finish this. Falman, find any and all information on this man, immediately. Rest of you, get back to work."

"But Chief!" Havoc protested. "What's going on?"

"It's Huskisson," Hawkeye replied, like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"That sounds familiar," Breda muttered.

"It should. He was one of Fullmetal's cases," Mustang said as he actually went back to work without Hawkeye reminding him to. "He was a scientist whose invention had the power to level a city as big as Lior."

"Wow…"

"The shrimp knew we didn't want that but apparently this man took the rejection too hard and tried to…do something, which backfired. The initial reports say his lab collapsed on him, but if he survived…and with all these people kidnapped, this man is up to something."

"How many people, Chief?" Havoc asked.

"At least twenty."

"Damn," Havoc swore. He chewed on the ragged end of his cigarette, then, "So, what are your plans?"

"Simple," Mustang began but Hawkeye finished the sentence for him.

"We find him, capture him, question him, then put him on trial."

"First, though, we need more evidence," Mustang said, "so while Falman's looking for it, everybody else goes back to work and do not breathe a _word_ of it to anyone other than each other. Understand?"

"Uh, sure, Chief," Havoc answered. Everyone dispersed, returned to their desks. Mustang sighed, moved to rub the left side of his face, then resorted to running a bare hand through his black hair. He then returned to his seat and sat down, tossing the folder on the desk. Mustang then picked up an edge of the folder and let the contents slide out.

A smirk made its way into his face as he studied the wrinkled paper, the brief messily written report opening with "Dear Bastard Colonel." The report was simple and to the point, although Fullmetal poked at Huskisson's insanity now and then, and called Mustang a whole list of names.

"Sir?"

He looked up; Hawkeye and Falman were standing in front of his desk, the warrant officer holding a single sheet of paper.

"Investigations has issued its orders, Sir," Falman said. "Huskisson's been sighted at a town ten miles east of Lior. We're to leave in thirty minutes."

"All of us?" Fuery piped up.

"There's something else," Hawkeye said quickly as she took the paper from Falman. "The Investigations officers sent to keep tabs on him were nearly mauled by…chimeras, Sir. Someone's been making them, and they were following him."

Mustang closed his eye and sighed.

"The Sewing Life Alchemist's involved in this?"

"I'm afraid so, Sir."

"I thought he was…it's been two years-"

"Yeah, we all thought the same thing, Chief," Havoc drawled lightly, but he was frowning.

"Chimeras?" Fuery asked weakly. "We have to deal with chimeras?"

"Wait, _all_ of us are going…Sir?" Breda demanded, rising quickly to his feet.

"We'll be traveling light," Mustang said as he pushed Fullmetal's report back into the folder. "Undercover, Falman?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And change out of your uniforms. Anywhere near Lior's still a bad place to be wearing these. The Ishbalans, they'll never forget, no matter _what_ we do."

XXX

Prime Minister Adolf Weissman sighed and kneaded the skin on his forehead. He had no idea what possessed his mind to put these two men in the same room, largely because even after two years and six months of governing Amestris in close quarters, they simply wouldn't get along.

"Absolutely not happening!" Statlin Jain snapped, moving his huge moustache up and down in tempo with his equally bushy eyebrows. "Your proposal is absolute madness, Chamberlord Reimoran! How could you even consider the _thought_ of integrating these bastards into our society?"

"Watch where you use your tongue, Chamberlord Jain! Should I remind you of my father's heritage for you?" retorted the other man. His stiff face proved a strong enough counter and Jain sank back in his seat, muttering darkly.

"Chamberlord Jain, unfortunately I have to agree with Reimoran. We've already had two wars and I am not looking to start a third one."

"There won't be a war, Prime Minister, if we do it quietly and swiftly!" Jain retorted, pounding a fist on the varnished wood desk. "They've been confined within the camps, except Lior. Lior is the problem."

"What exactly is the problem with Lior?" Reimoran demanded with a violent gesture. "Lior's prospering, and its wealth will help us get out of this mess. Ever thought of that, Jain?"

"This is money from their dirty pockets! This city doesn't need their money to stand back up-"

Weissman sighed and kneaded at his forehead again. Then he grabbed the nearest heavy object – a book – and slammed it on the desk. He idly thought, as he drew the Chamberlords' attentions from each other to himself, about the man who used to sit at this desk in this chair, reigning over Amestris while the Parliament sat on the sidelines, doing - as Reimoran liked to phrase it - "diddly-squat."

"Listen, I don't want any measures passed for or against the Ishbalans. Right now we have Central City to rebuild, and we need to do something about all that money _wasted_ on the two wars between us and the Ishbalans. Once we settle all that, bring up the Ishbalans in the internment camps. Until then, no laws, no rules, no regulations, no measures, nothing."

"Whatever you say, Minister," Jain said airily, leaning back in his seat. "We have patience. We've had it since the military took over Amestris, didn't we, Reimoran?"

The other man nodded. "Keep the loudmouths in your chamber shut, Jain. I've had enough of them arguing with the people in my chamber."

"Your chamber has been fighting with mine, Reimoran. Integrating the Ishbalans into Amestris? They'd see us dead before that ever happens, and your chamber still wants that measure passed! Why don't you knock some sense into them and tell them what I just said-"

Weissman groaned. Times like these, he wished he could just fire them, use the power King Bradley had. But he was a prime minister, not a dictator, and he couldn't just knock people of their seats whenever he wanted to. No, that's not how the Parliament worked, and he intended to keep things that way.

Still, at times like these, he wouldn't mind having the Fuhrer's power…

**XXX**

Author's Endnote: I realize there's so much potential with the idea of parallel universes. It's like fanfiction writer's birthday come early. That, and shipping.

You don't mind the OCs, do you? Don't worry. If they do take over, they won't stick out like a sore thumb. Or Ed's height, in a way.

Reviews appreciated.


	3. Beginning of a Story

Author's Note: I knew exactly how the chapter would start off, then petered out near the end, mostly because it's late and I'm tired as heck. Thank the gods for spring breaks!

Thank you, readers and reviewers. You make me feel giddy.

**XXX**

**Return to Shamballa // Rewrite**

**«2 – Beginning of a Story»**

**XXX**

"_Down_, Hayate!"

The black and white dog dropped belly-first to the floor, legs sticking out in a four-legged version of lying spread-eagle. His tail kept thumping the floor, though, threatening to drive Riza over the edge. She glared at Black Hayate but softened at the smile on his face.

Shaking her head, she returned to carefully folding up her blue state military uniform. She carried the clothes to the dresser and placed it on top, then started pulling out drawers, searching for extra clothes and any stores of ammunition she missed the first time she searched.

Black Hayate was up on all four legs and was busy sniffing at the open bag on her bed. She looked over her shoulder and saw him still smiling at her, his tail wagging furiously. She sighed, unsure of what to do with him. Well, she could always visit Gracia and Elysia, and drop him off for safekeeping.

She smiled as Elysia's cheerful face flashed in her mind. When she did, she stopped by to greet Hughes' wife and daughter, and they were always smiling. No matter what the day, or how impromptu the visit or coincidental meeting was, Gracia and Elysia were always smiling when she saw them.

Sometimes Riza wondered what it was that made them smile. She knew she certainly wasn't smiling whenever she saw them, and had to constantly force herself to make one whenever Elysia approached her and Black Hayate.

Problem was, whenever she saw Gracia and Elysia, she started thinking about Maes Hughes, and whenever the man came to mind, so did Roy Mustang-

The doorbell rang, followed by two small knocks on the apartment door. Riza stopped her musing and looked towards the door while Black Hayate leaped off the bed and charged it, barking all the while. At the door, he started wagging his tail and whining. He knew the visitor.

She rose to her feet to follow him, grabbed her hair clip from the dresser, and deftly worked her long hair into a loose plain bun as she went to the door. Black Hayate knew who the person was but just to be sure…she checked the pistol at her waist as she reached for the doorknob with her free hand.

She opened the door and Black Hayate charged, nearly bowling over her superior, who had his right hand raised to knock again. She stared at him in shock, and he returned the favor, until his dark eyes went to her right hand, which was still resting on the handgun at her waist. She quickly withdrew her hand, then saluted him, the mask coming over the very human expression on her face.

"Sir!"

He shook his head.

"At ease, Lieutenant."

Black Hayate was tugging at his pant leg. Roy looked down at the dog. "Let go, Hayate. I need these."

"Uh…Sir, what are you doing here?" Riza asked as she eased the door open more.

"Can I come in?"

"You don't need to ask, Sir. I was just packing, for our mission," she explained as she stepped aside. He walked in, right hand in his trench coat's pocket and the other holding a bag. Black Hayate literally pranced all over his feet.

"Hayate, stop."

While Black Hayate decided to occupy himself with his water dish in the kitchenette, Riza followed her superior to the three-seat couch in what constituted as the living room. He set his bag down but didn't sit down himself; he stood there, now both hands in his pockets, and he looked around at the sparse décor.

"Sir, you didn't answer my question."

"Oh, Gracia told me where you were living," Roy replied offhandedly. His eye was busy skimming over the few books on the coffee table, neatly arranged in a perfect stack. Largest book on the bottom, the smallest on top. Riza Hawkeye was orderly wherever she went.

"Sir, I asked why-"

"This isn't headquarters. Use my first name," he interrupted. She noticed his hand was fidgeting in his pocket, and he was frowning rather deeply. Something was bothering him. "All of us may need to go by first names during this mission."

"Fine, sir-I mean, Roy, but you didn't answer my question," she repeated, now a bit annoyed. She felt rather uneasy about referring to the brigadier general by his first name.

"Ah…well, your apartment was on the way to the train station, so I thought I'd stop by, pick you up along the way."

His voice dropped, as did his eye. He stared at the wood paneling while Riza sighed and turned away, staring at her bag in her bedroom.

"Sir-I mean, Roy, I have to finish packing. Do you want anything to drink?"

"No, I'm fine. Go ahead. We have ten minutes."

She nodded and went to her bedroom. Roy watched her continue carefully placing her clothes in the bag, then finally eased himself into her couch. He noticed how clean the fabric was, and wondered if she even used this couch, be it sitting, sleeping, eating…he didn't go any further.

Filed nails tapped on the floor and he looked down at Black Hayate, who sat half his bottom on Roy's left foot. The mutt had actually grown since he left Central City for the lonely outpost in the north years ago, so his weight was very noticeable on his foot.

"What are you smiling about?" Roy muttered, tilting his head to one side. Black Hayate continued grinning at him pink tongue lolling, then tilted his head, too. "Hey, Riza?"

A pause. "Yes, si-Roy?"

"Are you bringing Black Hayate?"

Riza stuck her head out of her bedroom. Her long hair was falling out of its bun and she was busy trying to fix that and count the ammunition in her hand at the same time. "I was going to drop him off at Gracia, s…Roy."

"No need. I think it would be better if he came with us," he said as he stroke Black Hayate's head.

He looked up to see her vanish but apparently her hair had come undone; he saw the ends of her long tresses as she went back in to finish sorting her ammunition.

Pushing down a burning sensation in his chest, he looked down at Black Hayate, whose jaw was now shut but whose head was still tilted to the side. He sighed, scratched the dog behind the ears.

"S-Roy?"

He looked up and saw her standing at the edge of the living room, bag slung over her left shoulder and one of her handguns at her waist; her hair was back in its usual bun. He raised an eyebrow at the white jacket she wore over her brown turtleneck and black pants.

"Is there a problem…?" Riza gave up trying to sort between 'Sir' and 'Roy'.

"No…"

He tugged to straighten out his dress shirt as the blonde woman headed to the door.

"Are you sure you should be wearing a white jacket, Riza?"

She was putting on her boots. "Only on the train. Only on the train."

He rose to his feet, picking up his bag, and moved to join her at the door. She opened it and they stepped out into the hall.

"Hayate, come," Riza ordered and the dog bounded after them.

XXX

"What are you doing here so early?" Havoc asked in mild surprise as Breda and Fuery found him, leaning against the wall at the train station.

"Could ask the same of you," Breda said as he put his bag down. Fuery was holding something in his hand and was busy fiddling with it.

"What's that?" Havoc asked as he switched his cigarette from left to right.

"I picked up some equipment on the way. We might need them, you know, to keep in touch," Fuery explained as he pushed his spectacles up his nose.

"Where's Falman?"

"He'll be here when the clock strikes the hour," Breda said, gesturing to the large clock face in the station. Three minutes to noon. 1157 hours.

"Have you seen Hawkeye on the way here?" Havoc asked, suddenly realizing why he had been feeling rather uncomfortable for the past eight or so minutes. Usually it was him and Hawkeye, waiting for everybody else to come. She was nowhere in sight. And nobody needed to worry about Mustang. He was always late.

The others shook their heads and Havoc sighed.

Two minutes to noon.

Falman appeared, one and a half minutes before the hour. He gave them a stilted smile as he set his bag down, but then frowned. "What's with the faces?"

"You're usually on time. You're early," Havoc declared.

"This is a weird day," Fuery muttered as he put the equipment in his bag. "Do I really have to go?"

"Orders are orders, unless you want to disobey them," Falman replied, with the slightest hint of an edge in his voice.

Fuery didn't ask again.

"I bet she'll at _least_ make it before the bell stops chiming," Breda began.

While Falman groaned, Havoc took up the large man's offer. "How much?"

"Twenty that she makes it here."

"Thirty she's dragging Chief here."

"Thirty-five she's leaving that beast back home."

"Forty-five she's _with_ Chief."

"Ha, ha, very funny, Havoc. Adding that to our six-month-old bet?"

"Oh, so you've been counting the months, Breda?"

"We never called it off-"

Falman sighed and shook his head as the bells in the train station tolled the number of the hour. Unlike much of Central City, the train station had escaped any lasting or defacing damage and had been fully functional in the first month of renovations.

_One. Two. Three._

"Why don't you join us, Fuery?"

"Ah, no thanks."

_Four. Five._

"Not a betting man?"

"I lost all my money to these stupid bets; I need my money and I'm not losing it again!"

_Six. Seven. Eight._

"Well, he got us there."

"Still…a bet between just the two of us, Breda?"

_Nine. Ten._

"You see them?"

_Bark. Bark. Bark._

"Is that a dog I'm hearing?"

_Eleven. Twelve-_

Breda screamed as Black Hayate barreled into them, pink tongue lolling out of his mouth, sending the heavyset man streaking all the way down the train station. Havoc watched him run, jaw slack and cigarette fallen out of his mouth, while Black Hayate turned his attentions to Fuery and proceeded to try and lick all the features off the young man's face.

"Bringing the dog, Hawkeye?" Falman asked curiously as she joined the men. He raised an eyebrow, seeing the brigadier general right behind her.

"Ha!" Havoc leaped to his feet and whirled around to yell at Breda, who was doubled over and trying to catch his breath. "I win, Breda!"

"Betting again?" Mustang asked, a bit amused.

"Afraid so, sir."

XXX

Dusk. The sky was quite beautiful at this time of the day. The rosy haze of the sunlight vanishing over the horizon and the cool spring breeze…

"Ah-ah-achoo!"

Ed winced as Al sniffed and rubbed his nose. "Brother, my nose itches."

"And what am I supposed to do about it?" Ed demanded as he waited for the two officers to cross the street. "C'mon, c'mon…move, dammit!"

He looked behind him at the three gypsies standing in the shadowy alleyway, hoods and cloaks hiding their faces from potentially dangerous Germans.'

The trial of the National Socialist Party's leader Adolf Hitler for his involvement in the Beer Hall Putsch was far from concluding yet his men were already causing chaos. Many more Jews, most of them wealthy men, had been attacked since the murder of the one-armed Jewish art dealer. A few Roma had mysteriously disappeared and someone who vocally revealed his loathing for Hitler's views was later found with a messily slashed throat.

Ed was just thankful Fritz Lang was still safe.

Earlier in the day he and Al went to visit the man at his movie studio, leaving Noah, Leo, and Saree to hide the truck and make their way into Munich unseen. The man was taking a break from directing and he invited the Elric brothers for a cup of tea; he was quite delighted to see them.

"And what, may I ask, is the reason behind this most unexpected and pleasant visit?" the man asked with a chuckle. While Ed felt completely at ease around this man, Al shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Why did this friend of Ed's have to look like King Bradley?

"Can you spring us back into the Thule Society's secret headquarters?" Ed asked casually, looking only briefly at the workers bustling on the sets around them. He noticed with interest how they seemed to freeze before going back to work.

"You should keep your voice low," Fritz warned. He looked at the other workers as well, then sighed. "These are bad times for the Germans. Our economy may be on the upswing, but…if it weren't for the Nazis-"

"Nazis? Who are they?" Al asked.

"The National Socialist German Workers' Party. It still has its supporters but with their leaders in prison for the Beer Hall Putsch six months ago, they're in a rut. That's fine by me, but their supporters are whispering things about the earthquakes six months ago, and they're blaming the Roma people for it."

"The earthquakes? Oh, you mean-oh…" The siblings fell silent.

"So keep a low profile. People are nervous and things are not looking pretty between the so-called Aryans and the others, others including me. I may be a Roman Catholic but to the Nazi supporters, I'm still a Jew."

"This whole race-religion-thing is so frustrating," Ed muttered, slumping in his seat, arms crossed over his chest.

"We had the Lior uprising, remember, Brother? And the Ishbalan Rebellion some years ago."

"See?" Fritz poured himself another cup of tea. "People are all the same, wherever you go. People have a deep fear of what they don't know, and this fear can turn into hatred, and hatred into war. If someone looks different, acts different, believes in different things, you won't feel comfortable with that person, and that's the whole point of the Nazi party. They are blaming our loss in the Great War on the unknown people, even if these people helped Germany fight."

He sighed and took a sip of the amber liquid.

"That's why I make films. I lock myself in my dreams free of these human problems, but I can't run forever, at least not from the world we live in. If worst comes to worst, I will have to leave Germany; I can't live here and live my dreams as long as the Nazi Party's out there, promoting their anti-Semitic views."

This was what's become of Germany, the country Ed and Al considered home. The two had left Fritz and his film crew in a considerably darker mood, and proceeded to sneak back to their apartment and find some of their trusted friends at the same time.

"…tomorrow, Hughes. Oh, and tell Gracia congratulations, for both of you."

Ed mentally slapped himself for being so furious at the two men. That was Officer Hughes! He watched as the other officer walk away, then stepped out into the street.

"Hey, Officer Hughes!" Ed called out.

"Ed!" The man tipped his hat. "Where have you been? You and your brother…and that Roma girl, too?"

"Oh…" Ed rubbed the back of his head. "We've been around and about. Doing things…can we talk about this somewhere else?"

"Been up to no good again?"

"Aren't you _glad_ I was? It got you out of the party, didn't it?" Ed jabbed back. "And it got you near Gracia, didn't?"

The rather sloppy grin on the officer's face gave it all away.

"So how are things between you two?" Ed continued. "We've been here and gone so many times we never got to find out what's going on between you two!"

"Well…we are engaged…"

"Really?" Al burst out of the alleyway he and the others had been hiding in. "You are? Congratulations!"

Officer Hughes jumped back, then staggered and righted himself. He grinned, abashed. "Well…I…yes, we're engaged. Few weeks ago, while you were off on one of your trips again with those gypsies."

"Which reminds me…" Ed looked over his shoulder. "…they're with me, Noah, Leo, and Saree. Care to help us back home?"

They could tell Officer Hughes was still uncomfortable with the darker-skinned people, but he smiled and nodded nonetheless. "I know all the routes. I should warn you, though, and you especially-" he pointed at Ed, who gulped "-she's been going crazy over you. You might want to stop by before retiring for the night."

"It's late and I'm not going to," Ed retorted stiffly.

"Will she ever give up?" Al laughed as he jogged back to the alley to motion for the three Roma.

"Hey!"

Officer Hughes nodded to Noah as she emerged with Leo and Saree. "Good. Keep those hoods on. C'mon, at this time there won't be any patrolling the front of Gracia's shop."

Hurried nods passed along and Officer Hughes started walking down the street, the others with him. Ed took up the rear with Leo and focused his mind and senses on the cool night around them as Officer Hughes led them down this street and up that alleyway and around this corner and away from the carriage making it's very last stop for the night.

After five minutes of weaving – Ed and Al knew the fastest way but that wasn't the point – six people were found inching along the walls of buildings towards Gracia's flower shop and apartment she was the landlady of, just down the street. They pressed as far back from the iron street lamps as possible, as if they could avoid the light entirely.

Officer Hughes knocked on the door and it eased open.

"Home, finally?" Gracia asked wearily, but she kept a brave face. "Oh, you brought company."

She opened the door and Officer Hughes waved the others in.

"They're back," Officer Hughes said simply, before giving his future wife a kiss on the cheek.

"Mm-hmm, and for how long?"

"We'll be here for at least a week," Ed remarked cheekily. "Then we'll be off again."

"Only one week? Ed, what am I to do? I can't stand her nagging-"

"Can we _please_ not talk about her?" Ed groaned. "He's -" he pointed a finger at Officer Hughes "-already said it, and my brother's bothered me _so_ many times sometimes I just want to…to…"

Noah touched his arm and he fell to breathing heavily, just to prove his displeasure at the touchy topic.

"Alright, I get it," Gracia laughed. "Now why don't you all go upstairs while Mayes and I have a little talk?"

"Oh yeah, we heard! Congratulations!" Al said cheerfully.

"When's the wedding?" Saree asked; the Roma had been keeping quiet.

"In a few weeks," Gracia said. "Will you be there?"

Ed and Al looked at each other. Officer Hughes frowned at the knowing look passing between them. "I don't like the looks of this."

"Like I said," Ed began as Al started directing the others up the stairs, "it's complicated."

"That's not what you said," Al pointed out.

"Same thing. We visited Noah's grandfather. They're going into the mountains to get away from the people here. He said we…we may have to go back home."

"So it takes Noah's grandfather to get you to go back home," Gracia said with a smile.

"Ah…it's a little more complicated than that," Ed said with a nervous laugh. "See, I'm not from around here-"

"I know. That's what you told Alfons and me."

"Actually, it's a lot more complicated like that-"

"There you are, Edward!"

Ed froze, grimaced, sought desperately for a place to hide. From the looks on Officer Hughes' and Gracia's faces, he knew he was stuck. With a heavy sigh, he turned around and looked at the girl standing on the stairs.

"Hey…Anne…" he said weakly, with an even weaker wave to the blonde girl in a long pale blue dress.

"Where have you been? I've been waiting for you for two weeks! Grandmother had these pastries she baked days ago but since you weren't here, we ate everything. Sorry about that! I promise I'll save some for you the next time she feels like baking these things!"

Ed sighed. Of all things, the girl who looked exactly like Winry was his and Al's neighbor. She could be the most annoying person on this side of the gate.

"It's okay, W-Anne." Unbelievable; he almost did call her Winry. Curse these parallel universes!

"Is Al here, too?"

"Uh…" Should he? "Yeah, he's upstairs with Noah and…some other friends."

"I saw…them at least. Why do you hang out with people like her anyways? Don't you know? They were the ones who made those earthquakes months ago!"

"You sure?" This was one of the reasons why he didn't like Anne Deibold – she was a real bigot and idiot.

"Of course I'm sure. You'll never know what really goes on when these people get together. They're strange and strange people shouldn't be trusted-"

"Anne, please. I understand. But they're friends and I _know_ they won't do anything to hurt anyone. Now…could you just…go back to bed? It's pretty late-"

"Fifteen past twelve, to be exact," Gracia interjected, looking up at the ornate clock on the wall.

"Well, I'm tired. Got a busy day tomorrow! Good night, Hughes, Gracia, _Anne_. Night!"

He stormed past a surprised Anne, ignoring the grins on the two adults' faces, and went straight to the apartment, muttering darkly under his breath. He shoved open the door to see Al and Leo sitting on the couch, Al suppressing his laughter while Leo looked on disapprovingly. Noah and Saree were in the kitchenette boiling water and preparing tea.

"Just…like…Winry…" Al choked out and Ed swatted his younger brother on the head.

XXX

"You don't put _cheese_ in cookies!"

"Why not?"

"You-you just don't! That's just wrong!"

"You'll never know until you try!"

"Argh! Why do I even bother?"

Rosé Thomas sighed and looked at the two Ishbalan boys apologetically.

"Do they always argue like this?" Rick asked curiously while Leo continued poking around the Rockbells' living room.

"I heard it's only when they're trying to cook-"

"Sheshka, step _away_ from the stove!"

Leo hemmed and hawed as he picked up a tiny dog sculpt from steel. Then he was busy poking at the spare automail arms and legs on the cabinet. He stopped when his eyes caught a bunch of picture frames, neatly and nearly swamped by the machinery, and picked one up.

"Hey…it's that short kid…"

Rosé perked up at the mere mention of 'short', then sighed. Rick looked at her and asked, quite innocently, "Do you miss him, too?"

She smiled softly at him and nodded.

"Him? Who misses _him_?" Leo asked loudly, gesturing to the photograph.

"I miss him!" Rick protested with a glare at his older brother. "Rosé, you think we'll ever see him again?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. Sometimes I feel that when I look out the window, I'll see him and his brother walking down the road, laughing and talking about things. But each time…nobody's there. Except yesterday, when the two of you and Sheshka arrived at the same time!"

"Hey, everybody!" Sheshka poked her head out from behind the kitchen's door. "Who wants to try my cheese cookies?"

Beyond the door, everyone could hear Winry grumbling on and off about cheese and cookies and insane women who don't know how to follow recipes.

"Cheese cookies?" Leo echoed doubtfully.

"I wanna try!" Rick leaped up to his feet and bounded to the kitchen, slipping past Sheshka.

"Oof!"

Something made of metal hit the floor and Rick started shouting, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

"No, no, it's alright, Rick-"

"But look, all those cookies are on the floor now-"

"Rick, it's okay. Nobody's hurt. You are okay, right? Didn't hit your head or anything?"

"No."

"Good."

Sheshka looked over her shoulder, watched the blonde young woman smile and pat the young Ishbalan on the head. "Now, help me pick these up and then we'll try Sheshka's abominable creaton."

"Hey, it's not abominable! It's delicious!"

"I haven't seen you try it!"

"Okay, fine!"

Leo sat down heavily next to Rosé as she continued embroidering, a new favorite pastime of hers. He stared down at his hands, then at her, then at his feet, then at her embroidery, then at the frames hung on the walls.

"It's hard, isn't it? Being around these people," Rosé said softly. "It can get to you, especially when you've had that experience."

Leo frowned. "Winry said her parents died because they didn't care if someone was a State soldier or an Ishbalan rebel. I-I respect her for that, but that doesn't mean I have to respect everybody else!"

"But you came here to Resembool-"

"That's because Ed offered me the first time and I turned him down. These past two years…made me think a lot about the two wars between the State and us. Ishbal and Lior…they fought us because we were different-"

"It wasn't just that." Sheshka was suddenly there, holding a plate of yellow cookies. She held it out to them, then placed it on the coffee table in front of the couch. "If it weren't for King Bradley, there wouldn't have been a war, but there was one because he and the others were looking for the Philosopher's Stone."

Leo shuddered. "I don't want to hear that. That's-that's-"

"Heresy to your religion," Sheshka supplied. "But that's why the two wars happened. At least the wars are all over…I think…"

"Aren't they?" Rick asked as he joined them, holding a glass of milk in one hand and a half-eaten yellow cookie in the other. "That's what Armstrong said!"

"Well…back at headquarters," Sheshka said slowly, "Investigations has been tracking someone. He's been kidnapping people; Ishbalans, too. Have you heard about that?"

The two boys nodded.

"They're worried about this man. He was one of Ed's old cases. It was something about a real dangerous weapon…and they think the man's made another one. They're planning to send out Brigadier General Mustang and the others to find the man and bring him in. Stop him from doing something stupid and dangerous."

"Mustang…isn't he the man who can make fire?" Leo demanded; he was bristling. "I remember him alright!"

"Brother-"

"He's a bastard, a real bastard. I hate his fire! I hate his-his-his magic! I hate fire!" Leo was on his feet, shouting. The others were staring at him, horrified.

"Brother, please-"

"There was fire _everywhere_," Rick said angrily. "Fire destroyed Ishbal. Fire destroyed our home. Fire killed our mother! Anyone who can make fire, I'll hate that person!"

"Leo," Rosé murmured, "you have to calm down, and think about what you said. So much hate…you're still hurting, aren't you? You've finally accepted your mother's death, after six years of hate, and you're still angry. Let it go, Leo. That's the only way."

"You're not…angry? Atthem?"

Rosé sighed. "I was angry at Ed, for making me lose my faith in Father Cornello all those years ago. I forgave him, over time. Even after what the military did to me, I forgive them. What's happened back then happened, Leo. It's time to move on. But not the way you did, trying to pretend your mother never existed. Embrace what's happened and keep going."

She put her embroidery down, rose to her feet, and gave Leo a gentle hug. He froze, then slowly wrapped his arms around her and rested his head against her shoulder, taking deep shuddering breaths. Rick watched on, feeling lost, glass of milk and cookie forgotten.

Sheshka heard a noise somewhere behind her, and turned to see Winry standing at the cabinet, holding something in her hands.

"Winry?" she asked, adjusting her glasses as she approached the blonde woman.

Her shoulders were shaking and Winry was trying to stifle a sob as she stared at the frames in her hands. One was taken of her, Grandmother Pinako, Den, and ten-year-old Al. The other was an older one, of her, Grandmother Pinako, Den, Al and Ed.

"Will I ever see you again?" she whispered shakily.

"Winry…" Sheshka began slowly, quite unsure of herself while two people in the room were breaking down all of a sudden.

Winry whirled around and threw herself into Sheshka, sobbing. Astonished, Sheshka barely had enough sense around her to embrace the blonde woman.

"Will…will I ever…see him again?"

**XXX**

Author's Endnote: Sorry for such a crummy ending. I promise I'll make it up tenfold with the next chapter, which I am so eager to write. This is where I plan on making full use of the idea of parallel universes.

I also learned a great deal about post-Great War Germany and the Nazi Party while researching material for this chapter. Sometimes I just _love_ history.

Reviews deeply appreciated.


	4. Roland and Roy

Author's Note: I made a few mistakes, among them some name-switching between a few of my OCs, the potential misspelling of Elysia Hughes' name, the fact the German army officially didn't exist between the Great War and the Third Reich, and that I have no idea if it was Berlin or Munich where part of _Conqueror of Shamballa_ took place. For the sake of this story, let's pretend it was Munich. After all, the Beer Hall Putsch _did_ take place in Munich.

That said, German cuisine is quite interesting. White sausage, anyone?

**XXX**

**Return to Shamballa // Rewrite**

**«3 – Roland and Roy»**

**XXX**

Her name was, to the Elric brothers' immense horror, Dante. Dante Frederikson, to be exact.

"Do you have a problem?" she demanded, her stony glare freezing them to the spot.

"N-no, ma'am," Al stuttered, recovering much faster than Ed. He looked desperately at Ed for help, but the look of abject terror on the older sibling's face didn't assuage Al's astonishment.

"_Miss Dante_ if you please," the Lyra look-a-like said crisply and strode past them primly, hands gripping papers meant for the people on the set. Two pairs of brown eyes of varying shades followed her, then Ed sighed and scratched his head.

"We're never getting over this, are we?" he asked, with a defeated laugh.

"Who else do you think looks like people from our world?" Al wondered as they followed Fritz's voice to the source, weaving through sets and props of what looked like an ancient wild world.

"Well…those soldiers back there looked familiar…"

"I think one of them looked like Second Lieutenant Havoc-"

"Ah…there they are!" Fritz's voice boomed over the heads of the men he was conversing with. He gestured to them and asked, with a wide sweep of his arm at the stages, "What do you think of these sets?"

"What are you filming?" Ed asked casually while Al poked at a model of a strange-looking beast.

"_Die Nibelungen_. It's a duology, actually. The first film's called _Siegfried_ and the other is _Kriemhilds Rache_. They're based on a Teutonic poem called _Nibelungenlied_, a story about the son of a prince who became invincible by bathing in the blood of a dragon he killed, except for one spot on his shoulder."

"Ah…interesting…" Feigning interest, Ed looked around casually to study the sets.

"An epic poem by the ancestors of Germany; it's quite a wonderful story and something worth dreaming about," Fritz continued, reminding Ed of what the filmmaker once said about the reason why he made movies.

"These are so impressive!" Al exclaimed as he held up a prop, a wooden spear.

"Ha, I can do better than that!" Ed retorted and reached into his pocket.

"Brother, what are you doing?" Al asked carefully, realizing his older brother had pulled out a piece of chalk and was drawing a transmutation circle on the concrete floor. "Brother, I don't think you should-"

"Not here, Edward Elric," and Ed froze, feeling Fritz's presence hovering over him. "Please, do not scare my people away."

Muttering, he rose to his feet. Fritz looked at Al with a raised bushy eyebrow.

"We found out how to…use alchemy," Al whispered. "The only problem is, we have to use blood."

"Oh my, that's very interesting," Fritz remarked. "Intriguing indeed…didn't you say that in your world, you used the deaths in this world to fuel your…alchemy?"

"But here, we use blood," Ed muttered as he rose to his feet. He wiped something on his pants and told Fritz, "Here, this is for you."

"Brother, when did you do that?" AL demanded as Fritz found himself laden with a heavy fanciful spear with a varnished wood handle and a steel head.

"Just a moment ago," was the reply as Ed scuffed at the remains of a circle on the floor.

"What about…" Al noticed the rip on his brother's lower lip. He sighed. "Brother…"

"What? Nobody saw," Ed countered.

Fritz was frowning, although he kept running his hand up and down the smooth handle. "I think you two should go back home. We'll talk about your plans later."

He turned and walked off, calling some men to him, still gripping the spear. Ed stared at the small of his back, jaw hanging, slightly affronted, and Al was scowling. "Brother…I told you…"

"Fine, fine, you win," the older brother sighed. "Let's go. Lunch on me today."

Al grinned at the prospect. "Sausage and dumplings?"

"They serve sausage second breakfast, Al, you pig."

"Dumplings and pretzels, then, with sweet mustard!"

"As long as you don't touch the beer-"

"You know I wouldn't, Brother! You're the one who's drinking the beer!"

"_You_ ordered the weizenbier, remember? The café down at the town square?"

"Uh, that…Brother, it wasn't my fault! I misunderstood!"

"Right, misunderstood. I understand, Al. But you seemed to love being drunk so I thought I should warn you before you run out into the streets again, screaming your lungs out about-"

"Brother!"

"I didn't know you had it in you, Al. What was it you said about Wi-"

"Brother, stop!"

XXX

"First…names?"

"How do we do that?"

"No idea. Really, Chief?"

"Do I look like I'm joking, _Jean_?"

"Ah…no, Chief."

"Good. Heymans? Kain? Vato? Any questions?"

"No, sir."

"Nope."

"No…sir."

"Good." Roy smirked and left the compartment. The four men looked at each other curiously, then Heymans shrieked and leaped back on the bench, crushing Kain while trying to get away from Black Hayate, who poked his head in the compartment to sniff around.

"Hayate…" Riza said sternly as she waited for him in the narrow hallway. The black and white dog yanked his head back and followed his 'mother' to the next-door compartment, where Roy was already sitting and simmering his disgruntlement over the prospect of the long train ride eastward.

The four subordinates knew. Jean looked at them all with a wide grin on his face, and wiggled the unlit cigarette clenched between his teeth.

"Bets, anyone?"

"Again?" Vato groaned, pressing his head against the windowpane.

"Heh, watch this," Jean said and rose to his feet. He slid open the door, leaned heavily against the frame as the train car went over a bump, steadied himself, and made his way to the next compartment. He rapped on the door, waited a precautionary few seconds while Black Hayate barked from the other side, and slid the door open.

He felt slightly disappointed to see his two superiors doing anything but the extremely imaginative – Riza was reading a novel with a rather rich red cover, and Roy was sitting across from her, his arms crossed, and his one good eye glaring at the spot between Jean's eyes.

"What do you want, Jean?" Roy demanded.

"Chief…Roy…I was wondering…" Jean spotted the eye patch and saved himself. "You said we had to call each other by our first names, right?"

"I thought there weren't anymore questions," the black-haired man muttered.

"Sir…" Riza warned as she flipped a page. Jean narrowed his eyes and studied the cover.

Oh, this was good.

"Don't you think people would recognize the eye patch, Chief?"

A beat. Black Hayate sat on Jean's toes and looked up at him, tail wagging furiously.

"Sorry. Won't ask that again, Chief."

"Sir, please remove your gloves before I have to."

Jean quickly backpedaled out of the compartment while Riza put the book page-down next to her and leaned over to yank the white glove off of Roy's right hand. He half-ran, half-staggered back to the other compartment and sat down heavily next to Vato. Kain was dozing already and Heymans sat with his arms crossed, a grumpy frown on his face. Vato was staring out the window as trees seemed to flit by, the monotonous stony expression on his face broken by absolute boredom.

"So…" Heymans began as Jean chomped on his cigarette.

"Not yet," Jean said with a heavy sigh. But his eyes were shining rather cheekily, so the others knew he had something in mind. "But…did you know our dear First Lieutenant reads romance novels?"

"No way!" Kain had woken up and was all ears. "Ha-I mean, Riza reads _romance novels_?"

"I'm not kidding about this; she reads those dime novels, the cheap romance books you find at the grocery stores!" Jean trumpeted, remembering the sultry aura the novel's cover radiated. Then his smile was all ears as he salvaged the details of the cover. "She reads those romance novels filled with…_sex_."

"I do not like where this is going," Vato muttered.

"Lighten up, Vato" Heymans countered. "This is good material."

"You're all worse than women," was the gray-haired man's criticism. "Gossiping about our superiors; I'm surprised he hasn't roasted any of you after all these years."

"That's because we don't tell him what we're betting on," the portly man replied. "We're not as dumb as you think, Vato."

"That's not what I said-"

"Say, why don't _you_ join the bet-"

"I will not make a bet on my superiors' personal lives-"

"_You're_ worse than women; you're no fun."

"My job isn't about fun-"

Kain sighed. Knowing sooner or later Jean and Heymans would give up on Vato and turn to him, he decided to feign sleep. It didn't take long, though, for real sleep to come, and he slept, head pressed against the window, glasses askew and mouth slightly open.

At least Kain didn't snore.

XXX

They spent the entire evening walking around town, talking. If it wasn't about how to sneak into the ruined headquarters of the Thule Society, it was about what Fritz had said a few days before about the Nazi Party – Ed had immediately pieced together the connection between Dietlinde Eckart and Adolf Hitler. And if it wasn't about the headquarters, it was about life in Munich versus Resembool. Then they were reminiscing about their hometown, which led to a very long discussion about their wild and farfetched adventures all over the State, punctured again and again by dark thoughts about their sacrifices. Often they mused about Maes Hughes and their teacher, Izumi Curtis – they got the shock of their lives when they spotted someone looking very similar to her inside a butcher shop with a massive man and a boy who looked like Wrath.

"We'll never get over this," Ed groaned after the two had a panic attack over someone who also looked like a Homunculus. This time it was Gluttony, but he didn't look anything like the very fat, stupid-faced eating machine; when they spotted him, he was an overly overweight boy – perhaps ten years old – gripping onto a woman's hand tightly and whining about pretzels while munching on a fat sausage.

"…Adolph Heinz, you have had enough to eat for one outing. Now stop whining; we still have a lot of places to go to."

The woman dragged the boy off around the corner but he saw the Elric brothers staring at him and his mother, and waved cheerfully as they disappeared.

"A…cheerful…Gluttony?" Al said weakly.

"Who…doesn't want to eat us?" Ed added faintly.

Dinner was at a beer hall they frequented over the past six months. The brothers sat in the far corner and they were both concentrating on what the men and few women were discussing. Mostly they felt happiness and anger, rolled up into one. Although much praise was thrown about over the foreign minister Gustav Stresemann's policies, people were still angry about their loss in the Great War. This was the one thing the two brothers couldn't understand. Why were they so mad over losing a war they started that ended up wiping out so many people? These people should be happy the economy was stabilized and they were alive to move forward and better Germany's future, but Ed knew they were afraid things were going to go crazy again. Underneath the optimism of Stresemann's policies ran fear of an uncertain future.

"Why the Gypsies? Why the Jews?" Al muttered sadly into his dish of dumplings, his second helping of the day. The table near theirs was filled with ugly words about the two peoples.

"…crazy people, a scavenger lot they are…"

"…rest of us trying to get out of our debts and they're living like kings…"

"…purity of blood, wasn't that what he said…"

"…dirty blood and a dirty people…"

"It's like with the Ishbalans," was Ed's dark reply to the hatred. "People _are_ afraid of others not like them. Not that the Ishbalans did much; all they were really afraid of was alchemy and they believed in Ishbala. Leto if we're talking about the people of Lior. And it wasn't even their fault the State went to war against them. Blame the Homunculi and Dante-"

"Beer?" a waitress asked as she made her rounds around the tables.

Ed smirked at Al before shaking his head. "No thank you."

Al scowled back. "That wasn't funny, Brother."

"I know. That's why it's so funny."

Al flicked a pea at his brother's head.

They spent the rest of the evening talking about who else on this side of the Gate might look like someone they know. The two were in agreement that the soldiers they used alchemy on did indeed look like members of the State Military, so if that was true, then maybe…

"Then that means that bastard colonel's here, isn't he?" Ed growled over his second mug of beer. Al was watching him carefully, noting the flush face and the difficulty with which Ed kept his focus on any one object for a long period of time. "That morally bankrupt asshole…"

"Brother, I think you've had enough to drink today," Al said firmly and tried to pry his brother's fingers from the mug handle. Unfortunately it was Ed's automail hand so Al failed rather spectacularly.

"Hey!" Ed yelled, raising his mug and looking for a waitress. "Can I have some more beer here?"

"Brother!" Al rose to his feet and ran around the table to Ed. "Come on, let's go home."

"Home! What would I give to go home!" the older brother hollered as Al grabbed his left arm and tugged him up to his feet. His automail foot stomped on Al's right and the younger brother yelped in pain. "I wonder if Winry got any prettier because she's already pretty the last time I-"

"And you said I shouted strange things about her to the street," Al muttered as he dragged his brother around the tables and towards the door. He fished in his pocket, then in his brother's pocket, and tossed some change to a passing waitress. "Thanks for the food."

"No problem," the woman said as she counted out the amount. "You'd better hurry him home before he passes out."

"I know. C'mon, Brother," Al grumbled as Ed stumbled into one of the support beams of the beer hall.

Once outside into the cool night, his mind seemed to clear and Ed took a deep breath before laughing. "That waitress…didn't she look familiar?"

"Um…I don't know."

"She looked like…what's her name…Psiren…or was it Clara? Clara, Psiren, Clara, Psiren," Ed chuckled. "Hey, Al, where are we?"

"Outside the beer hall. We should go home. Noah and the others are probably really worried about us."

Ed sighed. "I forgot. Let's go home. Hopefully Gracia gave them some food-"

"She always does. She's so nice," Al said happily as he led the way down the street, a hand gripping his brother's left upper arm tightly to make sure the tipsy young man didn't hit his head on a lamppost or a complete stranger.

"Mmm…" was Ed's reply.

They passed by the beer hall where Ed and Alfons used to dine; Ed refused to go there after the Beer Hall Putsch, still bothered by memories of the young man he studied and traveled around with for two years.

Then again, Officer Hughes also frequented that place and the three men always had a fine time. Ed sighed. He was starting to miss the other Hughes, Maes Hughes, the man who shoved photographs of his wife and daughter in everyone's faces, the man who always helped them whenever he could, the man who died thanks to that bastard Envy-

"Hey, you two!"

Ed and Al turned as light streamed out of the open doors of the beer hall. Officer Hughes stuck his head out of the beer hall and smiled at them. "Mind holding these doors open for me?"

Without another word, the Elric brothers jogged over to do so. Then Officer Hughes adjusted his grip around a _very_ inebriated man and walked him out of the beer hall.

"What's up, Officer?" Al asked cheerfully as he let go of the door, not noticing the growing look of terror on Ed's face.

"Nothing much. The bartender sent a message over telling me my friend's been drinking too much again," Officer Hughes explained as he carefully sat the man down on the curb; the black-haired drunk doubled over, head hanging. He was taking deep shaky breaths and rocked back and forth constantly. Officer Hughes looked at the man's back sadly and shook his head. "I always tell him not to overdo it, but he'll never listen. He hasn't listened to anyone in a while…"

"Hey, Al…"

Al looked at his brother. Ed was ghostly pale, his golden brown eyes wide with shock. "Brother, what's wrong?"

"Doesn't that man look familiar to you?" A shaky finger pointed at the man's back.

"I-I don't know. I didn't get a good look at his face. Why?"

"Just-just take a look."

He looked at Ed curiously, then walked over to the drunken man. Al narrowed his eyes as he peered at the man, then his eyes went wide as he staggered back.

"What's wrong?" Officer Hughes asked worriedly.

"We-we've seen him before!" Al exclaimed. "But on our side; he looks just like-"

"That bastard colonel," Ed growled, clenching his automail hand.

"Former colonel, actually," Officer Hughes corrected, much to the brothers' confusion. "He resigned from the army during the Great War."

"And why's that?" Ed demanded, still angry. Al sighed, realizing Ed was still a bit drunk. He must still think this was the same man who used to send Ed on bothersome missions and mock his height every chance they met. Of course, almost everyone they met on this side who looked like people on that side didn't match up personality-wise…almost. Officer Hughes was an officer, this man was a colonel, and those men the Elrics jumped were in the military like the others on the other side.

"It's a…let me show you."

Officer Hughes pulled a Maes Hughes on them and pulled a photograph out of the pocket of his uniform coat. Unlike Maes Hughes, he didn't shove it in their faces, cooing about the photograph's subject. Then again, there was nothing to coo over with regards to the contents of this photograph.

Ed and Al stared at the black and white photograph, faces slack with astonishment.

"Al…"

"I know…"

"This is bad."

"It's like déjà vu, isn't it, Brother?"

"I can't believe this."

The photograph featured several men in uniform, and they all looked like men they knew from the State Military. There was Jean Havoc. Over there was Kain Fuery. That was Vato Falman. This was Heymans Breda. Here was Alex Louis Armstrong. And that was the bastard colonel, Roy Mustang, with his arm around a girl who looked very, very familiar.

"That looks like Lieutenant Hawkeye, doesn't it?" Al whispered.

Officer Hughes frowned slightly as the two brothers continued scrutinizing the photograph. He decided to butt in. "These are my friends in the military. Most of them still are…or whatever's left of it, since we officially don't have an army anymore. Roland here, he resigned before the end of the Great War. He would've deserted – and gotten himself killed had he been caught by the army, German, French, or English - but the others convinced him to resign under the pretense that he had gone crazy in the head. I heard his reasons were pretty convincing, too; he did have to spend some months at a mental hospital but he eventually got out."

The man shook his head and pushed his spectacles up his nose bridge. "Not that it did any good to him. He was ruined already."

"What happened?" Al asked curiously while Ed griped under his breath about Mustang and this 'Roland'. Al was always the kinder humanist.

"That's Jackob Havers." He pointed Jean Havoc.

"This is Heinrich Goethe." Vato Falman.

"Rudolf Kaine was the radio man; he fixed my radio once. Very handy with wires." He pointed at Kain Fuery.

"Albert Johannes always hated dogs." Heymans Breda.

"Harold Reighmann was one of the biggest men in the Germany Army." Alex Louis Armstrong.

"This is Roland Janzen, my best friend." Roy Mustang. Of course.

"And the girl?" Al asked when Officer Hughes didn't continue with her. The man didn't reply for a long time; he was resigned to staring at the dark-haired man and the light-haired woman in the photograph. There was a sad smile on his face. The two brothers began to frown at the silence, suddenly realizing this was not going to be a pretty story.

"That…she's a French girl. During the Great War, we occupied a part of France but the French and British armies kept us from going any further. We had a good position though, so for a long time the army stayed there, on the defensive. The way I heard it, a lot of our men got along with the French people, even if they detested us. And apparently Roland got very friendly with this one wealthy French family and their daughter, Eliza Claire. He sent me a letter – well he sent me a bunch of letters about her and this one photograph, but he wrote me one saying he was planning to desert the army and flee west with her family – all the way to England, I think. He really did love her, enough to abandon his homeland."

Officer Hughes took a deep breath, glanced at the hunched form of his friend. The bespectacled man shook his head before continuing.

"He never got the chance. The army had no idea about what he was going to do but they went ahead and killed the whole family, thinking they might be more of a liability than help. What's worse, Roland's battalion was ordered to clean up the mess, including looting and burning down the Claires' home, and burying the bodies. From what Jackob told me, Roland went crazy after that. And here he is now, former colonel and the resident drunk in this beer hall."

Officer Hughes was very bitter as he shoved the photograph into Al's hands, walked over to the man and hoisted him to his feet. "C'mon, Roland, Gracia will fix you up. She always does. You're a pain, you know that? Of all the things you could do, it had to be drinking. Sure, we Germans have fine beer and all these beer halls, but you need to stop abusing them. Our old friends are worried about you. Jackob keeps asking me if you've stopped drinking. Pull yourself together, man…"

Ed and Al watched the two men stop at a street corner. Roland bent over and was now vomiting everything in his stomach into the street. Officer Hughes looked over his shoulder at them, grimacing at the retching sound, but he still held the man up. Then they were staggering off, presumably to Gracia's place.

"Wow," was Al's eventual declaration, and Ed had nothing to add.

XXX

The wooden benches were very uncomfortable and Roy was reluctant to sleep on them. But it was either that or the floor, and he knew the floor was worse. With the train wheels jumping over every bump on the train tracks, he'd wake up with a surefire headache, and that was the _last_ thing the Flame Alchemist needed.

Good thing Riza had pocketed his gloves soon after Jean left or else he would've been setting fire to everything. This damn mission was really grating on his nerves, and he didn't know why. He knew this was an important mission – Huskisson was dangerous to everyone – but he still felt very, very annoyed.

"Comfortable?" he asked, barely hiding the steel in his voice.

Riza snorted as she flipped a page in her novel. "Should I lie, sir?"

"It's Roy."

Riza didn't answer, immersing herself in her novel. Roy sighed and slumped in his seat, wincing at the soreness in his rear. It was starting to go numb. Black Hayate yawned and stretched out on the bench next to his 'mother'.

A knock and the door slid open. Jean stuck his head inside. "Hey, Chief, you up for a game of cards?"

He looked at Riza briefly but decided she was too occupied to care if anyone else was in the compartment with her or not. "Count me in, Jean."

Jean grinned and pushed the door open wider for him.

Heymans was busy teaching Kain the finer points of poker as Vato made room for Roy to sit on the bench. Jean gestured to Heymans, who handed him the deck of cards, and started shuffling.

"How long's the train ride?" Kain wondered while Jean dealt hands.

"Three days and three nights," Vato replied. "That's if we don't have any delays."

"Did you read a manual or something? Is there even a manual for something like that?" Heymans demanded as he looked at his hand. He frowned and tapped his chin.

"We have to sleep on these benches for three nights?" Kain was horrified.

"I'm sure they have pillows around here somewhere," Heymans said as he tugged out three cards and placed them, facedown, on the floor. "Do they?"

He looked at the superior, whose hands were shaking. Roy looked quite pissed at his hand. He then looked up and glared at the expectant faces. "You expect me to know everything about a train ride to Lior?"

Jean grinned. Chief didn't have his gloves on him. "Why not, Chief? After all, shouldn't you be looking out for the wellbeing of your subordinates?"

Roy practically snarled as he pulled two cards out of his hand. "Don't push it, Jean."

"Sorry, Chief. Won't happen again. Anyone?"

Cards passed between people as conversation turned to light matters, such as Kain's overly kind heart and Heymans' eating habits. At one point, Jean dared to ask Roy why he stopped dating women, and all he got was a rather lame statement that he just wasn't interested in pursuing women anymore.

Roy Mustang the Ladykiller of Central City had disappeared.

At 0106, they decided to stop for the night; everyone was yawning and the youngest, Kain, kept drooling into his hands. Vato, to everyone's surprise, had bested even Heymans at the game; his no-nonsense face performed as the ultimate poker face and no one could get past him. He pocketed his newfound wealth, tossed in his winning hand to a grumbling Jean, and proceeded to make himself as comfortable as possible on the hard wooden bench for the night. Kain was already gone, his glasses on his lap as he slept with his mouth wide open. Heymans was explaining the finer points of solitaire to a half-interested Jean, who was so tired he didn't realize he was done shuffling the cards for the night; he kept shuffling them, his unfocused eyes staring at the floor of the train. Roy rose to his feet and bade the others a good night.

"Night, Chief."

"Night, Sir."

"Good night, Sir."

A beat. Roy sighed and kneaded his forehead.

"I told you we're on a first name basis. It's _Roy_."

"Uh…yes, Chief."

Yes, Roy…Sir."

Vato decided to emulate Kain and was already asleep. Roy staggered out of the compartment. His legs were sore and he felt drunk; he was so tired he nearly fell asleep leaning against the side of the train car opposite the compartment door. He shook his head, then rubbed his right eye and managed to make his way to the neighboring compartment, half-expecting Riza to be awake and waiting for him.

He was rather taken back to see her asleep, stretched out on the wooden bench, right arm providing as an impromptu pillow and left arm hanging over the side, fingers brushing the cover of the romance novel she was halfway done reading. Black Hayate was on the other bench, sleeping on his stomach. The dog raised his head as Roy closed the door behind him, then yawned, baring his pearly whites.

Roy covered his own yawn as he sat down on the bench next to Black Hayate. He leaned left against the window of the train, then tilted his head more so his right eye could get a good look at the outside world. It was very dark, the moon a sliver in the sky, but he could still see the misshapen forms of trees flitting by.

Riza stirred and Roy turned his attention to her but she merely shifted in her position on the bench and sighed before settling. Her hair was starting to come out of its tight bun and he felt a sudden itching to reach over and pull out the brown hairclip.

_Her hair looks so soft…_

Black Hayate yawned again, then yipped as though he was warning Roy about his wandering thoughts. Roy glared at him but the dog resorted to sitting up and wagging his tail. The black-haired man sighed and leaned against the window again. Sleepy as he was during the poker game, he couldn't actually fall asleep. He'd close his eye, then open it again, and he'd be staring at his First Lieutenant, who'd make a small sound in her throat as she shifts to make herself more comfortable on the wooden bench. How'd she manage to do that? He could still hear disgruntled mutters from the neighboring compartment, Heymans and Jean growling amongst themselves about the damn benches.

Black Hayate didn't seem to mind the bench, either. Of course, he was a dog and even if he didn't find the bench comfortable, he couldn't complain. Roy smiled. How he loved dogs. They were loyal and they never complained…unless they needed to go outside to do business or wanted to be fed. Or play. He didn't mind that.

"Man's best friend…" he murmured, watching Black Hayate roll onto his side and stretch his four legs out.

He turned his head again and resorted to staring out the window, partially hoping the rather boring scenery would put him to sleep.

The landscape outside the train was starting to win him over and his eye had all but closed when he heard his name. It was a low whisper, a despairing sound, and he woke up.

"…get up…sir…Roy…get up…"

He stared at Riza. Her face seemed twisted in pain and she kept repeating the line, again and again and again. She was having a nightmare.

He slid off the bench and knelt down before her, unsure of what to do. She jerked her head, and he felt something in his chest twist as she said, "I'm sorry…I'm sorry I didn't get there in time…please…get up, sir…get up…"

_She's still having nightmares. Oh, Riza…it's been over two years and you're still blaming yourself for it?_

Impulsively he grabbed her left hand with his, holding it tightly as he leaned over and whispered into her ear.

"It's all right, Lieutenant…Hawkeye…Riza. It's all right. There's nothing to be sorry about."

She seemed deaf to him. "It's my fault…it's my fault I didn't…please…get up…Roy…"

"It's not your fault," he said, wondering if she could hear him at all. "Riza, it's not your fault. How many times…it's not your fault…"

He closed his eye, pressed his forehead against hers, and started seeing it all happen again, their drive to King Bradley's home, his farewell to Fullmetal, the horrible timing at the mansion, the fight in the basement, all that fire…the little boy with the skull…Frank Archer, that bastard…he could hear her voice screaming his name, still heard it as the pain overwhelmed him…

His right hand reached up and slowly undid the hairclip, pulled her hair free of it. Her hair was soft and he ran his fingers through it slowly, almost caressing it.

"It's all right, Riza," he murmured, feeling her breath against the side of his face. She was no longer calling for him, and he no longer saw fire behind the eyelids of his one good eye. "It's all right…"

XXX

Vato Falman was rather glad it was him and not one of the others who saw what he saw when he knocked on the door of the train compartment next to the one he shared with three other men. He wasn't one to go around betting on his superiors' personal lives, so he felt free to smile when he slowly slid open the door and saw the brigadier general sleeping sitting up on the floor next to the bench the first lieutenant was slumbering on, foreheads pressed together, his hand in her long blonde hair. Black Hayate had the other bench all to himself, and raised his head to look at the intruder with sleepy black eyes.

What Jean and Heymans would've given to see this, he thought, and quietly closed the door.

XXX

This would be the first time he was traveling without his little brother, and that bothered him immensely. Not that he'd show it or say anything about it, of course; he preferred his brother stay behind.

Xenotime, he knew and said, was far safer than Central City would ever be.

And, naturally, Fletcher complained.

Russell Tringum waved as the train pulled away from the station. Elisa waved back from her seat on Belsio's shoulder but Fletcher was running with the train, waving and calling Russell's name. The older brother smiled, then leaned out the window.

"I'll come back a State Alchemist, and we'll make Xenotime a whole new city! So don't worry about me!"

"No matter what happens, Brother, come back, okay?" Fletcher yelled as the train picked up speed and he could no longer catch up.

Russell waved one last time before pulling back and sitting down in his seat. The blond young man sighed and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't believe he was actually doing it. He was going to Central City to take the Alchemist Exam in a few weeks. He was going to be just like Fullmetal, Edward Elric.

A smirk appeared on his face as Russell crossed his arms and slouched in his seat. He wondered if Ed grew any taller in the past two years.

Word had gotten to Xenotime about the strange earthquakes that rocked through Amestris six months ago, and the word included the return of two alchemists who had left Central City two years ago – Fullmetal and Flame. While Fullmetal disappeared again, Flame stayed at Central City, and Russell wondered if contacting the man about his desire to become a State Alchemist would help him. Becoming a State Alchemist was an important new goal to Russell. It was a very long time since he'd given up on his father's research and Belsio had helped him and Fletcher develop their alchemy using his farm.

Ever since Ed and his younger brother Al uncovered the immorality of Mugear's plot with the Red Stones, Xenotime had barely kept its feet under it. People still dreamed of the day gold returned to their town and no matter how many times Belsio tried to convince the townspeople that gold wasn't the answer, they pined after the precious metal. But over two and a half years, Belsio slowly gained the ears of some people and farms were springing up throughout the town. The farms and their produce were providing the only source of income for Xenotime, and that was when Russell made the decision to join the State Military. Perhaps he'll gain research funding for his specialty, which was plant alchemy.

Fletcher also told him that when he was old enough, he'd join Russell and help rebuild Xenotime as a market and produce city, independent of its broken golden past. Russell smiled, looking forward to the day the Tringum siblings fulfilled their father's dream of helping the people of Xenotime.

_I wonder if I'll ever see Ed again._

**XXX**

Author's Endnote: Some of my OCs will have very prominent roles to play throughout the story. I hope you don't mind; you might even like some of them. And since so many _Fullmetal Alchemist_ characters are so interesting, I'm bringing (almost) everyone back. And if I get as far as I hope I get, then Russell Tringum will play an even bigger role than he did in the original series.

Reviews appreciated. And Happy Easter, everyone!


	5. Dreams of Homeland

Author's Note: My excuse for the long period of not updating? My laptop crashed. All the files on the laptop's hard drive's fine…but my memory stick, which was attached to the laptop, got corrupted. I lost all my current stories, including this chapter, therefore I had to rewrite everything. I think it turned out better, though.

I know some of you pointed out my choice of characterizing Warrant Officer Vato Falman. My only excuse is that two years and a half can seriously change a person.

Carry on?

**XXX**

**Return to Shamballa // Rewrite**

**4 - Dreams of Homeland **

When Gracia invited them over for breakfast the next day, he hadn't expected the damn colonel's look-a-like to be there, sitting at the oval-shaped oak dining table, halfway done with breakfast. Officer Hughes was sitting at the head of the table, hands holding a steaming cup of black coffee, watching with a strange motherly fondness as his friend wolfed down eggs, bread rolls, and sausage.

The man didn't even bother to look up at the arrivals, although his black eyes did glance briefly at them. To his surprise, the man didn't make so much a comment at the three Roma people in the room. Perhaps he was occupied with eating and preferred that to firing questions.

Or maybe he wasn't like most other Germans. Maybe he didn't care.

Ed wasn't sure what to think as Gracia asked Saree to help her set out more plates; he couldn't stop staring at the man, trying in vain to convince his mind that this _wasn't_ Colonel Mustang. Surely his mind could understand, right? It has accepted Officer Hughes and Gracia, Fritz and Dante, Leo and Saree, the fat kid and the small family in the butcher shop, the soldiers in the black and white photo, Anne and Alfons.

But it refused, absolutely refused, to believe this Roland was not Mustang under an alias.

"Brother?" Al's voice broke into his mind and Ed realized everyone was sitting down, breakfast was on the plates, fresh and steaming, and he was the only person still standing. All eyes were on him, except for the man who dove into a second helping of breakfast.

Slightly embarrassed, Ed quickly sat down next to Al and breakfast commenced.

Quietly.

Usually it was Officer Hughes, Gracia, Ed, Al, and Noah. Leo and Saree joined every now and then, whenever they were in Munich and staying for more than a day. Usually the table would be alive with banter, small talk, easy jokes, and the Elric brothers' stories of their homeland.

But today, there was an extra guest. He was throwing off the happy equilibrium between friends, brothers, and lovers. He was radiating an awkwardness that kept eyes glued to their plates and mouths occupied with biting, tearing, chewing, and swallowing.

This annoyed Ed but for some strange reason he knew better than to initiate any conversation. It should be Roland who should break the silence; he was the black sheep here.

Roland quietly asked Gracia for a third serving, which initiated stares all around the table. Ed started feeling edgy; who was this stranger to barge in and swipe Ed's title as the heaviest eater at the table?

Once Gracia had gone to the kitchenette, Roland glanced at Officer Hughes, who had put down the bread roll he was about to bite into, and said softly, "Thanks, Mayes."

Officer Hughes smiled at the deep gratitude behind the two words. "Anything to help you, Roland. God knows you need it."

"God? Heh, who believes in God nowadays?" Roland retorted bitterly, staring into his half-empty mug of coffee. "God doesn't do anything for anyone. He just sits up there in heaven, idling away while we carry on our lives, doesn't give a damn what happens to us, and you expect him to know what we need? I don't think so."

"So much anger," Saree murmured. "You are deeply troubled."

"What do you know?"

Ed found himself bracing again for some smart remark on Gypsies after that sentence but Roland instead looked expectantly at Gracia, who reappeared with yet another plate of food. Ed looked down at his own plate and decided he definitely had room for more.

"I'm afraid there's no more, Ed," Gracia said apologetically when asked. "I'm sorry."

Al, who was now enjoying the sausage Ed had given him, immediately handed his older brother his bread rolls, which he had ignored in favor of the spicy breakfast meat.

Roland had already finished his third helping of sausage but he paused before attacking the bread rolls. He looked down the table, a cursory glance, and his dark eyes rested on Noah. She was picking at her food, staring resolutely at the white plate.

"Um…sir?"

Ed looked at Al curiously. His younger brother was looking at Roland, his brown eyes wide and wary. Roland merely raised an eyebrow.

"What's your name, sir?"

He was floored. _What's his name? Al, Officer Hughes already told us his name! Don't tell me you already forgot that!_

"My name?" Roland repeated mildly as he started picking at the food on his plate, too. Ed glared at Al, then looked at Officer Hughes. The man was smiling in discreet approval.

Perhaps there was something to that very simple question.

"My name is Roland Janzen. I was born in Munich in 1885. I joined the Germany Army just before the Great War broke out…and I left before it ended. What else would you like to know?"

There was a veiled threat, a wariness behind his brief answer. Ed looked at Al, wondering if he was going to press on.

"I…I was just wondering, sir," Al muttered. "Since you and Officer Hughes seemed to know each other…"

"Best friends, through thick and thin," Officer Hughes input. "Since grade school, right, Roland?"

"Hnn…"

Al took a deep breath. "What was it like in the army?"

Roland was about to take a bite of the last sausage on his plate. Instead he lowered his fork and looked directly at the younger Elric.

"What is war?"

He must've thought the two brothers were much too young or naÔve to ever consider that question. He must've thought they've never been to the war front, never experienced an attack of some degree of violence.

_You have no idea_, Ed thought sadly with a shake of his head. _You have no idea what we've seen and experienced._

"War took our friend's parents away," Al declared abruptly.

The Rockbells.

"War left people without a home."

The Ishbalans.

"War turned people into monsters."

Archer. Kimblee. Grand. Tucker.

"War made people vengeful. Troubled. Lost."

Scar. The bastard colonel.

"War took away people we knew."

Hughes. Nina. Mother. Father.

Ed looked at Roland. The man had closed his eyes, was grimacing each time Al spoke.

"I almost lost my brother because of the war."

Ed froze.

"Al…"

"It's true. I lost you, but we found each other. After everything we've gone through, we're still together."

Al looked up from his plate and smiled.

"So…you know…" Roland said softly. "You know what it's like…"

"We've been through a lot," Ed replied fiercely, his mind and body suddenly awash with the memories. "We're not that young."

"I'm amazed. I didn't think you had an answer. Still…you two made it through, together. That's what counts, doesn't it?"

The black-haired man looked down at the plate and nudged it away from him.

"Being together…in all this madness, that's the only way."

XXX

It was almost ten. Officer Hughes had to leave for patrol. He was in the bedroom he shared often with Gracia, buttoning up his uniform. Before he left the dining table, he had made a wry comment about giving up his own apartment, which was several blocks from here.

"Ah, the end of a lonely bachelor's life, and the apartment in need of a woman's touch," and Gracia pushed him in the direction of the bedroom.

Now Gracia and Saree were in the kitchenette, cleaning the dishes and preparing some tea. Leo had gone back to the Elrics' apartment down the hall, and now only four people sat at the table - Ed, Al, Noah, and Roland.

Ed was fidgeting with his thumbs. Al was stroking something in the inside pocket of his jacket. Noah was tracing nothings on the table's surface with her finger. Roland was resting his elbows on the table, hands folded to make a platform for his chin. His dark eyes occasionally glanced in Noah's direction, leaving Ed feeling rather annoyed.

So he decided to ask Mustang's look-a-like some questions and end the annoyance.

"Janzen?"

"Call me Roland."

"Okay. Roland, what did you think of the Beer Hall Putsch several months ago?"

"Brother…" Al warned.

Yes, Ed was treading on dangerous waters, but he was determined to find out where Roland stood on these issues. If this man did look up to the imprisoned National Socialist Party leader, then Noah and the others could be in trouble.

"The one involving the Thule Society and this so-called fairy tale land, Shamballa or something? What of it?"

So this man knew more than the average local German.

"How do you know that?" Al asked, surprised.

"You didn't answer my question," Ed added.

"I know that much because I knew a man who was deep in the Thule Society, and I don't care what happened in the Putsch. Hitler and his followers can go burn in hell; I don't care. It doesn't matter. Nothing does."

"Why do you say that?" Al sounded hurt, even though Roland wasn't talking about or to him. "Why are you so mad?"

"He doesn't look mad," Ed snorted.

"I don't have to look mad to be mad," Roland countered, then a sudden smirk appeared on his face. Ed shuddered; suddenly, this depressing man looked just like that arrogant colonel from Central. "Shorty."

He did not.

"SHORTY?! DID YOU JUST CALL ME A SHORTY?! WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO CALL ME A SHORTY? IS IT WRONG TO BE SHORT? IS IT BAD TO BE SHORTER THAN MY YOUNGER BROTHER?!"

"Brother…stop it…" Al said meekly.

Gracia and Saree stared out of the kitchenette, stunned at the outburst.

"You're giving me a headache," Roland muttered, rubbing his left temple. "Would you just shut up?"

"SHUT UP? SHUT UP?! YOU CALLED ME A SHORTY! HOW WOULD YOU FEEL IF I CALLED YOU A-A-A JEW?!"

It seemed like a good comparison at the time. Dark hair, dark eyes; when Ed and Al were out in the streets, they overheard others talking about the classic signs of a Jew or Gypsy, and those were it - dark hair and dark eyes.

"DID YOU JUST CALL ME A JEW? DO I LOOK LIKE A JEW TO YOU?!"

Unbelievable.

"Would you two quit it?" Officer Hughes snapped, stepping out of the bedroom and fussing with his hat. "I could arrest you both for disturbing the peace, so sit down."

The two men did - heavily, making sure their chairs scraped loudly against the varnished wood floor.

Officer Hughes shook his head as he pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. He studied Roland and Ed, who were both brooding, smarting from the comments they traded with each other. "You two act like children. Why don't you grow up?"

"I hope you aren't _implying_ anything here, Officer," Ed growled.

Children are short.

"Mayes, he called me a Jew. How much longer am I going to have to put up with this? Maybe I should just convert. That'll shut people up."

"Do you have any problem with Jewish people?" Saree asked mildly, looking quite unruffled even with all the shouting.

"Only when people think I'm something or someone when I'm not. My dad's German, my mom's English, and everyone thinks I'm Jewish. People _spat_ on me for being someone I'm not. Do you have any idea what that feels?"

"What about people who are spat upon because they are who they are?" was Saree's cold reply. "People call us thieves and pickpockets, witches and savages. And we've done nothing wrong."

Roland stared at her for a long minute, then sighed and looked away. "I'm sorry."

The kettle in the kitchenette started whistling, and Saree vanished to attend to it. Roland slumped in his seat, arms crossed on the table. He buried his face in his arms.

"I hate this country."

"Why?"

It was Noah. She hadn't talked since they entered Gracia's apartment a few hours earlier.

Roland noticed, too; he sat up immediately and locked his eyes on her. "Can't I hate this country? Am I not _allowed_ to be disgusted by my _Fatherland_?"

"Roland…" Officer Hughes began warningly. "If anyone hears this-"

As if on cue, someone knocked on the door, a series of rapid-fire raps to the wood. Ed rose and opened the door. He gasped, choked, then pointed a shaking right index finger at the visitors.

"YOU!"

Al jumped to his feet, ran to stop his brother from lunging at a horrified man in a soldier's uniform. Officer Hughes and Roland had risen to their feet as well, both wearing looks of surprise.

"What the _hell_ are _you_ doing here?" the soldier demanded. Al gaped at him as he grabbed his brother by the waist and dug his heels into the floor.

The man looked just like Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc.

The man looked just like the soldier Ed and Al attacked with their alchemy while returning to Munich.

"Jackob, put out that cigarette!" Roland barked, before grimacing at himself.

"Yessir," was the instant reply as the man dropped the said cigarette and stomped on it. He froze in the act of rubbing the tobacco into the ground. "Wait a minute…"

"Old habits die hard, eh, Jackob?" Officer Hughes remarked wryly as the man swore.

"Try his cigarette habit," said the gaunt-looking man behind the Havoc look-a-like. "Unbreakable."

"Shaddup, Heinrich," Jackob grumbled as he gave the remains of his cigarette another twist of his heel. "What you are doing here anyways, kid?"

Al grabbed Ed again.

"KID? KID?! JUST BECAUSE I'M SHORT DOESN'T MEAN I'M A KID!"

"But-but he didn't say that! Honest!" came the meek protest from the short soldier who looked more like a kid than Ed ever will be.

"Trust me, Rudolf, we know. We know," Officer Hughes said. "Why are you here, anyways?"

"Checking up on our old colonel, that's what," the rotund man with the paper bag of morning bread declared, staring darkly at the bristling short older teen and the taller one restraining him. "You should keep a hold on your younger brother; that's one nasty temper he's got."

Al laughed nervously. "_I'm_ the younger brother."

The four men at the door blinked rather stupidly. Then Rudolf pushed his glasses up his nose and said very, very quietly, "Albert, I don't think you should've said that."

"YEAH, I GET IT, I'M SHORT! HA, HA, HA! THAT MEANS I'M THE YOUNGER MORE IDIOTIC BROTHER, RIGHT? JUST ONE LOOK, _ONE_ LOOK, AND I'M THE WAYWARD LITTLE KID IN THE FAMLY, RIGHT? RIGHT?!"

"Edward Elric, shut up and sit down," Roland snapped in his most no-nonsense voice. "I have a headache."

It wasn't so much the order as the name that made Ed shut up. Al stared at the man at the table warily. "How'd you know his full name?"

The man smiled. Just like Colonel Mustang, that bastard.

"Because I do, Alphonse."

"Just _what _are you getting at?" Ed growled. The four men visibly relaxed once his attention was not on them.

"You should tell them, Roland," Officer Hughes said mildly while rubbing the shiny metal badge on his chest. "It might enlighten them."

"I know." The man sat down. "You want to know why I know so much about the Putsch and Shamballa?"

"Yeah," Ed began but Jackob cut him off.

"Hang on. What is _she _doing here? Where's she from?" he demanded, pointing a finger at Noah.

"Shamballa? Shamballa? Did he say 'Shamballa'?" Rudolf asked Heinrich.

"What, you got a problem with her?" Ed snarled, roused again. He would've marched up, stuck his face up at the taller man, and given him a talk-to -preferably with a punch in a face with his right arm - but Al yanked him away by his automail limb.

"Brother, stop it!"

Officer Hughes looked sternly at Jackob. "You're part of the Party."

"Whatever's left of it. I've half a mind to just leave. Without Hitler and the others, the party's nothing to the common Aryan," Albert said as he chomped on a loaf of bread. "Pah! Two days old and this far gone already. That baker's ripped us off! People these days just have _no_ appreciation or respect for soldiers these days."

"I don't know anything about this, honest!" Rudolf quickly said. "I don't want to get on anyone's wrong side!"

Heinrich said nothing, which was probably for the best given the glares of death being passed around quickly in the room.

"Why?" Roland asked coldly, glaring at the four men. "That madman Hitler's not worth your time!"

"Then what are we supposed to do, Sir?" Heinrich blurted out, his right arm moving swiftly into an unnecessary solute. He sounded desperate. Old habits died hard for him, too, given the salute and title. "The army's gone, our pride's gone, Germany's glory's gone. What can we do-"

"Anything! Anything's better than joining this National Socialist Party! Do you know what they were trying to do on the night of the Beer Hall Putsch six months ago?" Roland shouted, practically lunging towards them from his seat. His arms supported his upper body and they shook with his fury.

"I…don't know," Jackob admitted.

"Why? What else were they trying to do?" Heinrich asked.

"Where they trying to attack Berlin, too?" Rudolf asked excitedly.

Rudolf didn't seem to like Berlin.

"That's old and no, they couldn't even if they wanted to," Officer Hughes said calmly.

"They tried to conquer our home," Ed spoke in a low, husky voice.

"Eh?" Four pairs of eyes darted towards his small figure.

"They opened a gate trying to reach a land they called Shamballa," the blond man continued. "They tried to destroy our _home_."

"What the _hell_ does that mean?" Albert asked. "Tell me what that means!"

"Shamballa is a fable," Roland said flatly. "It's a utopia with unimaginable powers. Dietlinde Eckart tried to take control of the powers for Hitler. She thought it would be easy to conquer a utopia, but this fairy tale's far from a utopia. Isn't it, Edward? Alponse?"

"It's not," was the younger Elric's soft agreement. "It's just like this world, just…different."

"Similar faces but different people. Different countries, different geographies. But wherever we go, we keep running into the same problems. The same hatred. And just because someone looks _different_."

"Looks different? She _is_ different," Jackob said hotly. "You'll never know with people who think differently. You can't trust them; you'll never know what's on their minds, you'll never know where their loyalties lie. And besides, Gypsies are charlatans. They swindle you while telling you bogus lies about your future-"

"They told bogus lies about _your_ future," Albert retorted as he chewed on another bite of the bread he was complaining about. "I never lost any money to a Roma. You're just gullible."

"Am not! It's their fault! They convinced me to pay them-"

"She doesn't lie," Al interrupted, gesturing to Noah. "She hasn't lied yet, right Noah?"

She nodded demurely, shyly, then resumed drawing nothings on the table. Ed watched her closely, then his eyes widened when he realized she was tracing transmutation circles on the tabletop.

"Jackob, everything you've said's just ridiculous so stop it," Roland said curtly, glaring at the blond man. Then he looked at Ed and Al. "If this is coincidence, it's the most frightening kind. I've seen photographs of you, Edward, and I've heard enough stories about you, Alphonse, so I knew who you were when you walked in this morning. I met your father-"

"What? When?" Ed demanded. Al's jaw went slack.

"-several months ago. He saved my life, actually."

"Let me guess," Officer Hughes butted in sarcastically, which really wasn't like him. He was glaring at his best friend. "You were drinking at the beer hall."

"I..." Roland looked away. "I wanted to _die_."

"You tried to drink to death? Roland Janzen, are you an idiot?" Officer Hughes began furiously. "I told you, if you had any problems, you come to _me_. Friends exist for a reason and this is one of them!"

"I...I didn't think..."

Heinrich shook his head. "Nothing's changed after all, has it?"

"That's not a nice thing to say," Rudolf reprimanded as he adjusted his glasses.

"Roland, _why_ can't you just walk to my apartment for once, _for once_, and tell me to sit down, you have something you want to talk about?"

"I...I don't have something I want to-"

"Of course you do! Stop hiding behind the beer, Roland! I don't know what I'll do with you..." Officer Hughes slumped in his chair, holding his head, depressed.

Ed saw movement and watched his brother touch something on the inside of his jacket. Then Al slid out a worn thick paper. A photograph. The one Officer Hughes gave them last night.

_Of course_, Ed realized himself. _It's not just the war or this country. It's about that French girl, Eliza. But I don't get it. That was war. We all lose someone close to us when we get involved in war. So what was it about them that…_

He started thinking about the bastard colonel, and the gun-toting first lieutenant who was always by his side.

_What a scary thought._

"How'd you meet our father?" Al asked, trying to save the original question from what looked like an impending sobfest.

"Hohenheim?" The smile on Roland's face was dark. "He was sitting at the counter. I think he was watching me the entire time I was there. I can't remember much...I tried to drink myself to death and the bartender wanted to call Mayes, but I told him not to. I told him I had a pistol at my waist and I wasn't afraid to use it. He didn't question me after that.

"I don't know how much I drank before some man sitting next to me told the bartender to stop filling up my tankard. I remember the face; he was a tired man, but he had enough energy to pin me to the bar when I tried to attack the bartender. Next thing I know, I'm on the couch in a very dark and messy apartment. Hohenheim was sitting on a chair next to me, watching me. He said I looked like someone he met before."

"Yeah, we know," Ed muttered, closing his eyes tightly and rubbing at his left temple. "So our father told you everything? Even the alchemy?"

"What's alchemy?" Rudolf asked.

"It's…" Roland looked at Ed and Al. "It's magic and science, isn't it? Hohenheim told me about a guideline alchemists follow, something called Equivalent Exchange. If you want to do something, you have to offer something equivalent to whatever you're going to do."

"Well, it's not exactly _magic_…" Al said slowly. He creased his eyebrows, trying to find a simple explanation for alchemy.

"Magic? Actual magic?" Heinrich asked. "That's not possible."

"The only magic I ever knew was the disappearing coin trick," Jackob grumbled. "Except the coin never came back. How did they do that, anyways?"

"This," Ed butt in, pulling off the white glove on his automail arm as he approached the table, "is alchemy. Al, the chalk."

"Brother…" came the warning as the younger Elric pulled a small piece of white chalk out of his trouser pocket and placed it in Ed's outstretched left hand.

"L-look at his arm," Rudolf stammered as Ed drew a transmutation circle on the tabletop. The automail arm glinted in the midmorning light as it moved the chalk. Then Ed tossed his white glove into the middle of the circle and, grimacing all the while, bit down on his bottom lip. Pearls of blood bloomed from the self-inflicted wound; he pulled off his other hand's glove and wiped the blood with his thumb. Then he placed both hands, palms down, on the edge of the circle, the blood-coated thumb touching the chalk line.

A mild explosion of light later there was a pale green-gray earthenware pitcher where the glove used to be.

"And that," Ed declared loudly in the stunned silence, "is alchemy."

Jackob Havers was the first to recover his voice.

"W-who are you, you-you freak?" he stuttered, staggering backwards as far away from Ed as physically possible.

"Edward Elric," the shorter blond man replied hotly. "And I'm _not_ a freak!"

"That's…alchemy…interesting…" Heinrich mused, rubbing his chin with his right hand. He seemed to be taking things into stride.

Rudolf was helping Albert, who had choked on the piece of stale bread he was eating when Ed performed the transmutation. He pounded at the large man's back furiously, hoping to dislodge the piece of bread in Albert's throat before the man choked to death.

"Oh…" came Gracia's small voice. She and Saree had been forgotten in the confusion following the four soldiers' appearance. Gracia was leaning against the wall, her mouth agape.

Albert gasped for air and pounded at his chest while Rudolf rubbed his hand, wincing in pain.

"That's…crazy…" the rotund man wheezed. His face was very red and he was coughing every few seconds.

Everyone became quiet, the silence occasionally punctured by Albert's coughing. Somewhere outside, church bells tolled the hour. Eleven musical chimes.

"I've never asked this properly," Officer Hughes finally said, "but why are you two here anyways? You had the chance to go back to…Shamballa, but you came back here, and you brought your brother with you-"

"I told him not to follow me-" Ed began tensely.

"I wasn't going to lose you again, Brother!" Al retorted defensively.

"-and the past six months you've popped in and out of Munich every few weeks. I've been meaning to ask you but I never got to. What are you doing and what are you two still doing _here_? Why haven't you two gone back home?"

"Ah…" Ed and Al looked at each other, hesitant. What were they supposed to say? They couldn't go back home because Ed originally returned to Earth to permanently destroy the Gate. Neither of them was sure how these people were going to react if they learned an _extremely _destructive weapon was somewhere on the face of this world called Earth.

That and the two brothers had no idea what to do once they found the fission bomb.

"Did…" Officer Hughes asked of Roland.

"No. I don't think he knows why they're both here. Come to think of it, I haven't seen him since the Putsch. Have you, Edward?"

Ed nodded.

"Where is he?"

Ed lowered his gaze, stared at the newness of the pitcher on the table. "He's…not here anymore. He gave himself up…to open the gate to our home. If he didn't…"

"Oh…"

Noah quietly cleared her throat. "Tell them about the bomb, Ed. It's okay."

"Noah-"

"Bomb? Did she just say 'bomb'?" Albert demanded, dropping the half-eaten bread roll in his hand. The man had the audacity to continue eating the stale bread after he choked on it.

"Are you deaf, or deafened by the sound of yourself eating?" Saree muttered under her breath, crossing and uncrossing her arms.

Jackob glared at her but she returned the challenge coolly.

"A bomb…" Rudolf whispered. "What kind of bomb?"

"We…we really shouldn't say," Al mumbled.

"Noah, are you sure?" Ed asked of the Gypsy fortuneteller. This was very dangerous ground they were treading on now. Germany was in a foul mood, and a bomb of this type in the hands of anyone who's just as foul-tempered as Germany would be a very bad thing.

The nod was all the encouragement he needed.

"We came back to this side of the Gate because someone from our world accidentally sent his invention here. We've been searching for six months, then Saree suggested we go talk to Noah's grandfather. He told us the answer's been nearby the entire time. So we came back; there's one place we haven't looked yet-"

"What's this invention?" Rudolf interrupted, his hand up in the air to catch Ed's attention.

"It's a fission bomb made of uranium, a very advanced science in our world, and useless. It's extremely destructive; from what I read of the man's papers, it could level Munich."

After the mission to Huskisson's lab on that miserable island, Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes gave Ed and Al Huskisson's documents, and they discovered exactly how this delusional physicist got around to making such a terrible weapon of mass destruction.

"It's not exactly _useless_…" Roland said slowly. Officer Hughes looked sharply at the black-haired man.

"Roland, what are you getting at-"

"Can it wipe out Berlin?"

There it was, out in the open, quite possibly the most treasonous question of questions.

"Roland, are you mad?" Officer Hughes demanded.

"He did not," Jackob said.

"I think he did," Albert confirmed.

Heinrich shook his head.

"It can't be _that_ powerful," Rudolf said skeptically.

"It is," Al affirmed darkly. "It's very strong. I don't know how to explain it; the science in this world isn't very advanced in that area."

"Oh really?" Jackob began defensively but Heinrich placed a hand on the blond man's shoulder.

"Jackob, I think that really is enough."

"You're not my boss. And you, Sir-Janzen-Colonel-whatever, you're mad. You can't just _talk_ about blowing up Berlin like it's no big deal! You can't do that!"

"If we find the bomb, I think I can," was Roland's very even and very calm reply.

Ed shivered. There was something empty and horrid in the man's gaze, the flat monotone in his voice as he spoke. He was considering an act of terror on a country reeling from war. And his own country! Was this man really that serious?

"But why?" Al asked sadly. "Why do you want to blow up Berlin? What did Berlin ever do to you?"

Ed heard Noah's soft sigh and looked at her sharply but everyone else was staring intently at Roland, who clenched his jaw before answering.

"What did Berlin ever do to me? Everything. Berlin took away _everything_ from me. Germany was too greedy; when the Archduke was assassinated, Germany used that as an excuse to conquer mainland Europe. Did you hear of the losses? The destruction? I joined the Army for my country's glory, yes, but I saw and experienced what no one should see or face. And I came home to nothing. My parents were dead and they left me nothing; my only relatives lived in an enemy country and I was too ashamed to approach the friends I had who never saw the war front. Then Germany loses the war. For a while, people hated me. And I had never done anything to them."

"We had to stay in the barracks for months," Albert agreed bleakly. "We couldn't show our faces. We lost the Great War and forced Germany to sign that damn Versailles Treaty…"

Ed watched Saree walk over to Al and pluck the photograph out of his hand. She pulled the photograph close to her face, eyes narrowing as she studied its contents. Then knowing and sadness washed over her face.

"I see…" she murmured, then twisted a lock of wavy dark hair around her right index finger.

"…just blow up the government, Sir!" Jackob was half-shouting. "That's no way to do things!"

Roland stared at him with a stony frown on his face, saying nothing as the four soldiers tried to explain to Roland that attacking the German government was not a very good way to get revenge for starting the Great War.

"Bombing this country's government for personal reasons is a very selfish act, I think," Saree said calmly, her eyes still fixed on the photograph. She sauntered over to Noah's chair, and gently slid the photograph down onto the tabletop in front of the young Gypsy.

All eyes were on her as she raised a hand and touched the surface gently with her fingertips. Roland's eyes were wide, his black pupils following the photograph as Noah picked it up and brought it close to her face.

Saree stepped back, then turned on her heels and walked to the kitchenette as though her job was done, whatever it was.

"If you find the bomb," Noah murmured, "take it back across the Gate. It doesn't belong here. That's the only way. You…you must take your anger elsewhere."

"What?"

Noah looked up and matched Roland's dark gaze with sad eyes.

"Whatever you do…won't bring her back."

She placed the photograph down on the table and slid it to the troubled man.

Albert dropped the fifth stale bread roll he was eating. Jackob and Heinrich glanced at each other, then looked at Officer Hughes. Rudolf made an indistinct noise in the back of his throat.

Gracia approached the people huddled at the table, stopping behind Officer Hughes and placing her hand on his shoulder.

Al crossed his arms while Ed jammed his hands in his pockets, watching and waiting.

Roland looked down at the photograph, and slowly pulled it to him. He stared down at it for a long time, then took a deep shaky breath.

"Eliza…"

XXX

Anne Deibold gasped and sat down abruptly. She stared at the closed door for several more minutes, listened to the murmurs and words of comfort, before pushing herself up on shaky limbs.

She couldn't believe what she had just heard, had been hearing for an hour now. To be honest, this was not how she wanted her day to start, but last night Grandmother had woken her and told her to see what was making all that clunking noise going up the stairs. Sleepy, she stumbled out into the hall and saw Officer Hughes, who had been staying with the landlady more and more often, helping a man up the stairs. It was a man Anne had seen now and then while walking the streets of Munich, someone she wanted to stay far away from.

She was so sure he was a Jew, with his black hair and black eyes. And the way he looked and acted…he must be one of the possessed ones, the crazy ones, the ones her friend's father warned her about. Her friend's father was in prison, thanks to the Beer Hall Putsch six months ago, so she and her friend had been keeping watch on any suspicious 'others' for him and the party. Therefore she had considered it her duty to watch the landlady's rooms. It bothered her, though; Gracia was so nice. But the man she was going to marry was hanging around people Germany didn't need. She liked Officer Hughes, too, so all Anne really needed to do was remove every dangerous person from around him.

But then there were the Elric brothers. She thought they were true Aryans, like she was, but they were always moving around with those three Gypsies. She had known Edward and Alfons, and they were nice young men, and Edward's brother Alphonse was nice, too. If only she could get them away from those accursed dark people…

But now they were all together behind Gracia's doors, the people she admired and the people she feared, and they were just _so_ friendly to each other, and then those four former soldiers had come in looking for the Jewish man who was once their leader - she shuddered at the thought of a Jew leading Aryans - and now they were all talking about a bomb.

That Jewish man wanted to blow up Germany's government.

The treason!

Even worse, Edward wasn't the German she thought he was. She thought about the day he suddenly appeared with Alfons, looking for a place to stay while researching into some scientific thing in Munich, and had tried being friendly with the two. Edward wouldn't say where he came from, so she thought maybe his home got destroyed during the Great War.

Then he came bringing along Alphonse, who looked _exactly_ like Alfons, and she had grown suspicious with his very hasty explanation about finally finding his brother. It made no sense to her but she liked - loved - Edward, so she didn't question him, just to stay in his good graces.

She was very patient putting up with that Gypsy girl Edward and Alphonse were _always_ with.

_One day_, she thought darkly, thinking of her friend's father, _one day, she'll be out of his life and I'll be in his_.

And now he's saying he and his brother came from somewhere not in this world. They weren't from any part of Germany. They said they came from a fairytale her grandmother told her when she was little.

A utopia called Shamballa.

She remembered overhearing her friend's father saying that name. It was the night before the Putsch. He was talking to a few other men who gathered at her friend's house, and they kept mentioning a woman named Eckart and the fairytale. They kept talking about the powers that lay beyond a gate connecting the two words, and using those powers to take control of Germany and cleanse it of all the wrongdoers and impure people - the people who surrendered Germany to the Versailles Treaty, and the Jews and Roma. They were all dangerous to Germany, and her friend's father and the other men wanted to get rid of them with whatever lay in Shamballa.

And now, Anne knew, Edward and Alphonse Elric were dangerous to Germany, too. She didn't want to give them up, she really couldn't, but she had to do _something_ about that former Jewish soldier. But she also didn't want to hurt Officer Hughes and Gracia.

_I'll just report the treason_, she decided. That'll be enough to get rid of that man. But what if the police search through the entire apartment complex and get rid of Edward and Alphonse for housing those three Gypsies? Anne wasn't an idiot; she knew people didn't like Gypsies and Jews, and they didn't need a political party member to rouse them to do something terrible against them. And if anyone was caught taking care of them…

When Edward and Alphonse come to Munich for a few weeks, they usually leave the apartment complex around eleven and don't come back for about ten hours. She could easily coordinate the report and get her friend to help her set up the scene-

_No, that'll still give Gracia trouble…oh, what do I do, what do I do?_

A door down the hall opened and Anne stiffened. Slowly she looked in the direction of the sound, then covered her mouth, smothering a scream of fright.

That evil-looking Gypsy man was coming out of the Elrics' apartment and he was looking directly at her. At _her._

"Oh…" her voice uttered shakily.

"What do you think-" the Gypsy man began but that's all she heard. Anne bolted down the hall to the stairs and leaped down two at a time. Blood pounded in her ears as she jumped the last three steps, stumbled, then bolted out of the flower shop the landlady kept on the ground floor.

"Out of the way, out of the way!" Anne yelled, running into the daily traffic on the sidewalk.

_Police, police! Help me!_

XXX

The stiffness wouldn't go away, and he found himself constantly tilting his head from side to side as he and his subordinates left their private compartments and walked down the hall to one of the passenger cars. Heymans had been complaining about cramps in his legs and wanted some more room to stretch. He had made some snarky commentary about being crammed in a nearly airtight room with three other men, and then included some subtle choice words about how much more room Roy had in the neighboring train compartment.

Lucky Riza had his gloves in her pockets or he would've given his subordinate third-degree burns – and set the train car on fire. Instead he glanced at her briefly, and she was kneeling down, scratching Black Hayate behind the ears. The dog wagged his tail gratefully and rubbed against his owner's leg.

He wondered what was on her mind earlier that morning when they woke up. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, felt something hot and tingly spread through his body.

Only centimeters apart…

"So…Chief? Can we go now?"

"Jean, no smoking on the train," Riza said as she stood up. "Hayate, go."

She gestured to the compartment and the dog stared at her for a forlorn moment before walking in. Jean pulled out and stared at his unlit cigarette, then stuffed it in his pocket.

"Stay."

She slid the door closed and Heymans visibly relaxed, blood returning to his face. Only Kain, who had been standing closest to him, noticed, and hid a smile.

It couldn't hurt making fun of the man's fear of dogs behind his back now and then.

"Yes," the rotund man said shakily. "Let's go…"

Vato slid open the door to the public passenger car and they filed out into the aisle. Heads turned, stared as Jean and Heymans actively sought some empty benches.

Roy shifted from foot to foot as he noticed how many people had dark skin and reddish eyes. A nudge at his left elbow kept him moving after his men. He glanced briefly behind him, a questioning look, and Riza pushed him forward, silently telling him to act natural and keep walking.

The reddish eyes looked at him only briefly before they turned away; apparently the people found nothing particularly strange or unsettling about him and his subordinates. A little dark-skinned girl giggled, stood up on the bench, and waved at him, before the woman sitting next to her pulled her down and started reprimanding her. He smiled at the innocence.

Jean pointed to two benches facing each other on the left side of the aisle and the four men shuffled to them. Roy stopped at where they were sitting and raised his right eyebrow.

"Uh, sorry…Sir-I mean, Roy," Kain said apologetically while Heymans gestured to Vato. The warrant officer sighed, reached into his coat pocket, and handed the man a pack of cards.

No seats.

"Down there, Sir," Riza muttered and pointed down the aisle. There were fewer people at the end of the train car, therefore more seats.

Roy caught Jean's suspiciously suggestive grin as he turned to continue down the aisle.

"Remind me to give him half my paperwork when we get back to Central," he whispered to the First Lieutenant.

"They need your signature, Sir."

"He can forge it."

"Sir!"

"Stop calling me 'Sir', Riza! Remember what I said-"

"Lower your voice," she whispered tersely, then gestured to the empty seats on the right side of the aisle at the very end of the passenger car. Seated on the left side was a couple, a lanky dark-skinned man and a pale black-haired woman. They sat together, the man staring out the window, the woman leaning on his shoulder. She gave Roy an indifferent glance as he sat down on the bench opposite Riza, then looked elsewhere.

He leaned back in his seat, shifted to find the most comfortable position on the wooden bench, and closed his eye; he started grimacing as the train jumped over every little bump on the train tracks. He had a sore neck and now the rest of his body was starting to feel the pain.

He opened his right eye and tilted his head to entertain himself with the scenery outside. It was mostly scruffy vegetation and a farmhouse every few kilometers, but that was about it. It was rather dull.

Roy turned his eye to his gun-toting First Lieutenant - _His_? he asked himself - and stared as she reached behind her head and unclipped the brown hairclip. Her long yellow hair flowed down her shoulders; she put the clip on her lap and pulled a small brush from the pocket of her white coat. She started brushing her hair while looking out the rain-stained train window.

Midmorning sunlight was streaming in and reflected off her blonde locks and white jacket, illuminating her.

_Beautiful_, he thought, unable to keep the corner of his mouth from turning up in a smile.

Soft giggles from his right side had him craning his neck to the couple. The man was watching him while the woman the man was with whispered into his ear. Roy shuddered at the reddish gaze and looked away.

"Riza?" he asked mildly, "why are we even out here?"

He sighed and looked out the window but his eye drifted back to her slim form.

"Because we have to keep an eye on them, Sir," was her quiet answer.

Somewhere behind her, Kain shouted, "Royal flush!"

Roy groaned. "I'm pretty sure they can take care of themselves. And why do you keep calling me 'Sir'? I told you not to so many times-"

"I'm sorry…it's habit," she said stiffly.

"Riza, we're not in office and we're undercover…somewhat, which is _why_ I said _all_ of us have to call each other by name. Nothing's going to happen if you say my name."

She sighed, placing the brush down on the seat next to her. "I know. I'm sorry…Roy."

A shiver. He ignored the unexpected warm feeling rushing through his body and only said, "You don't have to apologize."

A small nod and she began putting her hair back up into the tight bun she always wore. He frowned; he never saw her leave her hair down - okay, scratch that, she did wear her hair down the months she spent taking care of him after the firestorm of a battle with the Homunculus and the damn Lieutenant Colonel Archer.

Still…

"Riza, why don't you keep your hair down for this mission?" he asked softly.

She froze, her hands in the act of making that tight bun. She looked at him sharply, the sunlight ricocheting off her amber-colored eyes.

"If I have to fire my gun, it's better to keep my hair up-" she began slowly, carefully.

Roy held out his hand. "My gloves?"

"_Sir_."

He let that one pass.

"Well, I could always order you-"

"Sir!"

"Dammit, Riza, it's _Roy_."

She sighed. "Roy, I really think it's best if I wear my hair up-"

"And today I disagree," Roy interjected, leaned over, and swiped the brown hairclip from her lap. She gasped, glared at him, dropped her arms, and began moving for what he _knew_ was a hidden pistol at her waist.

"Not a good idea, Riza," he tsked as he pocketed the plastic and metal hairpiece. "Civilians on the train."

A small cheer bubbled up inside him as she stopped reaching for her gun and instead brushed back her long hair with her hand. She crossed her arms and leaned back on the bench, staring at him furiously.

He sighed. "Lieutenant, please stop that."

"I thought it was Riza, _Sir_."

_She's playing games with me. Great. Not what I wanted at all._

"_Riza_, can you stop staring at me? It's rather uncomfortable."

_Oh, her cheeks are turning pink. This is interesting…_

"Roy, can I have my hairpin back?" A beat. "Please?"

"I'll give it to you tomorrow."

"Roy!"

A burst of unsuccessfully suppressed sniggers had her twisting in her seat to find Jean and Heymans quickly ducking their heads. Vato was looking rather miffed and Kain was snoring, face pressed against the train window.

Roy sighed and sank in his seat. "I think the janitor on our floor deserves a long vacation, don't you agree?"

"And the paperwork, Sir?"

She's done it again.

"I'll have them switching duties. I'm sure one can take care of two men's paperwork."

She shook her head in exasperation but a smile was playing on her lips. He allowed himself a devilish grin as he imagined poor Jean and Heymans slaving away-

"You two aren't from around these parts, are you?"

He stiffened and Riza instinctively reached for her gun.

The dark-skinned man on the left side of the aisle. He was smirking. Not a very good sign. Roy wasn't sure which way to take it. Either this man was going to pull off something potentially dangerous or he was secretly laughing at their-

"State your business," Riza blurted out, hand resting on a spot behind her.

The Ishbalan raised his hands, palms up, a gesture of peace. "Hey, I'm not going to do anything, Ma'am, so please, don't shoot me."

"Shoot you?" Roy repeated. "Who are you?"

The man shrugged. "I don't indulge my name to strangers, Sir. But I _do_ know who you are, Sir. Not hard to identify a particular military man with a particular eye patch-"

Roy was up on his feet and grabbing the man by the collar. He dragged the man close and hissed, "How do you know this?"

Riza stood up as well, pulling her pistol out of its hidden holster slowly.

The woman the Ishbalan was sitting with sighed. "Rugin dear, I _told_ you not to nose your way into other people's business-"

"I just wanted to help!" the man, Rugin, wheezed. He was in full panic. "I know you're here to inspect the kidnappings in Lior, Sir! I can help you!"

"Is there a problem here?"

Roy looked left and groaned in frustration. All heads had turned to the back of the train car, the conductor was quickly heading down the aisle, and Jean, Heymans, Kain, and Vato had huddled in, forcing Rugin and the woman he was with against the back wall of the car.

He let go of Rugin's collar and the man staggered back, gasping for air, his face flush.

"Conductor, I apologize for my disorderly conduct," Roy said flatly when the middle-aged man in the blue uniform opened his mouth to demand what business in hell was going on in _his_ train.

"Sir, I hope you _are_ sorry," the conductor agreed rather angrily.

"Hey, listen, you don't know who you're talking to-" Jean began.

"Jean," Riza called out. "Don't. Not here."

Vato swiftly stepped in and handed the conductor a folded piece of paper. The man unfolded it, scanned it, turned pale, and quickly shoved the paper to the stern-faced warrant officer.

"V-very well. I accept your apology. Just don't…lose your temper again, Sir," the conductor stammered, wheeled around, and quickly made his way back. He stopped at the front of the car and cleared his throat. "Folks, the dispute at the back has been settled. Please relax. We have five more hours before we reach the next town, and tomorrow morning we will reach Lior. Thank you."

He slid open the door behind him and disappeared, the door sliding back and clicking into place.

"Jean, Heymans, Kain, Vato, go back to your seats," Roy said tensely, eyeing Rugin and the woman. "We can handle this."

Jean nodded as the four men turned and went back to the two benches they previously occupied. Riza glanced at the woman, the muzzle of her handgun pointing down to the floor.

"Don't worry, honey, we're not here to hurt you or anything," she said sweetly. "Just this idiot here didn't do things the right way-"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Riza demanded.

"We know who you are," Rugin explained, scratching his head. "We were debating whether or not to approach you and offer help."

"What do you know about the situation in Lior and the surrounding area?" Roy fired. After the initial surprise, he couldn't find anything remotely suspicious about these two people. Besides the fact that these two knew _exactly _who he was.

"I know you'll get into serious trouble if you took a step inside Lior," the woman remarked. She wound a lock of wavy blue-black hair around her finger, and glanced at Riza with her purplish green eyes.

"Like I said," Rugin said with a sigh, "your eye patch gives you away, Sir."

"What do you know about the kidnappings?" Riza asked.

"How long have you been on this train?" the woman fired back.

"Two days," Roy said, a bit baffled at the question. "Why?"

"We got on the train yesterday," Rugin explained. "Yesterday there was news that two little girls got snatched at the marketplace in Lior. One moment they were there…their mothers look at the goods…and the next moment…gone. Just like that. Do you know what happened next?"

"Ah…no." _He expects me to guess?_

"Honey, the people went and attacked the nearest military patrol in the marketplace. One of the poor men they assaulted isn't going to wake up again," the woman answered. She tapped her chin. "It's a shame, but the people of Lior are scared and mad. Now almost ten of their people have disappeared, and that's adding a lot of insult to injury. First the military takes away their independence, then they can't protect the people from whatever's kidnapping their own? Last I heard, people are starting to think the military won't look into the kidnappings."

Roy shook his head. This was ridiculous. "We _are_ looking into these incidents, which is why we're-"

"My people don't believe that," Rugin interjected. "Well, they're not exactly _my_ people but they're close enough, and they're becoming extremely impatient with you. Actually to sum up the whole situation…they want Lior back."

Roy blinked.

"I'm not kidding," Rugin said, a little wary of the little response he got. "These people want their city back. They want to take matters into their own hands, now. They don't think the State's doing anything for them, and they're getting worried about the people moving into Lior from Central and South."

"The State isn't going to just let Lior go," Riza said carefully. "The military's only there because of the rebellion that Father Cornello started two years ago."

"You tell that to them," Rugin retorted. A hard edge was developing in his voice. "All they want is their city back in their own hands and under their own rules and laws. That's what the people of Lior want. They want back the . The Ishbalans? We want Ishbal back. We want all of our people to go free back to our homeland. That's all we want, but we can't. Why? Because of that stupid war _your_ country started-"

"Rugin!" the woman exclaimed, holding an arm out and shoving it into the man's chest. He started coughing, choking on his words. "That's enough. I think we've told them all we know."

"I think so, too," Riza agreed, glaring at the pair. "Thank you for telling us this."

"No problem, honey," the woman said, apparently knowing the two of them were toeing the line. "Rugin, let's go."

She shoved the Ishbalan forward down the aisle to the other side. Roy watched the Ishbalan's back, then sighed and sat down on the bench. Riza quietly placed her handgun back in the holster and sat down opposite him. He rubbed at his temple, then sighed and hunched forward, eye closed.

Just what was that all about?

"Sir? Roy?" Riza's voice was soft, soothing after the harsh, rising anger in Rugin's rant. "What do we do?"

Providing everything those two people just said was true, he and his men - and one woman - were going to have to get off the train one stop early. He relayed this information to the First Lieutenant, who immediately rose to her feet and walked down the aisle to the other men with the orders. Roy leaned back and tried imagining the flat wooden back of the bench as a soft couch.

He also pondered what Rugin had told him. The Ishbalans and the people of Lior were restless. Angry. They wanted their independence back. They wanted their cities back. Their homelands.

Were they willing to start another war?

XXX

She watched the brigadier general and his five followers -one carrying a dog in her arms - file out of the train, heads and shoulders kept low to blend in with the crowds on both sides of the train. They waited with the other people for the luggage, then headed for the train station's exit.

He looked at her.

"Should we follow them?"

She shook her head. "We don't have to. You know that."

He smirked, crossed his arms across his chest. "This is so pathetic. They have _no_ idea, do they?"

"Of course not. If they did, his plans will never carry through."

"Ah well…"

The two people turned and headed for a different exit. She secured her shawl tightly around her shoulders, smiled at the looks she was getting from the men.

"Why don't we follow them?" the man exclaimed abruptly. He looked over his shoulder. "It's just…not _right_."

They left the train station and went straight for the nearest alleyway. In the darkness they stopped and looked around for any eavesdroppers or bystanders.

"To you, perhaps. Knowing who you are…it wouldn't feel right, would it?"

The coast was clear.

"You just don't understand the circumstances-"

"You idiot, if you did follow them, one of them's going to notice you. They all got a good look at us, and you started off on the wrong foot. I _knew_ he should've assigned me to a different member-"

"Those two have other business to look after."

"He could've created another one of-"

The man shook his head. "I'm going after them. You report back."

The woman groaned under her breath. "Then make sure they'll _never_ suspect you."

The man grinned darkly. "You just watch."

A minute later a tan mongrel ran out of the alleyway and into the streets, nose near the ground. The woman stepped halfway out of the shadows of the alleyway and sighed.

"Hey, lady," a guttural voice spoke as a bulky man approached her from behind. "Looking pretty lonesome right there. You wanna-"

"I don't," she retorted, annoyed. She swung her hand at him.

A minute later, she walked out of the alleyway and into the street traffic, leaving behind a disemboweled man. His thick blood seeped into the sidewalk but nobody noticed.

Nobody in this town really cared.

XXX

Well, Roy had to give Rugin and the woman he was with credit for being right about the attitudes of the people of Lior and the Ishbalans.

They wanted independence, and they wanted it very soon, if not _now_.

"I don't feel safe in this inn," Kain said meekly, shrinking from the leers the dark-skinned people sent their way as Jean led the search for a table for all of them to sit at. He also seemed very busy bickering with Heymans over something that Roy did not want to know about.

All around him were voices of various tones and pitches, bickering, agreeing, laughing, talking. They were all talking about what they would do if they got their cities back. They were all discussing the presence of the State military in Lior and the banishment from Ishbal.

The Ishbalans, in particular, were wistfully talking about "back in the old days." Roy snarled deep inside. He did _not_ want to be reminded of the "old days", thank you very much. What did these people know anyways? Sure they lost their homeland and most of them were herded into camps, but what did they knowabout the "old days"?

"Sir? Roy?"

Riza jabbed at his side, keeping him moving forward with the rest of the group. He looked back, noticed the wary look on her face.

"What is it?"

"People are staring. You should keep moving."

"Right."

Jean and Heymans found a table not quite in a corner but not in the middle of the inn's ground floor. After some subtle - and not so subtle - pushing, shoving, and shuffling, the last man - in this case a very unhappy Kain - sat down and they all began to survey the crowd around them.

"At least I can smoke now," Jean remarked halfheartedly, looking at all the men breathing out cigarette smoke, and pulled out his own. Then he realized something. "Anyone got a lighter?"

Like Roy was going to light one for him in the middle of 'enemy' territory; besides, Riza still held his gloves hostage so he was weaponless.

"Remind me why we got off at this town?" Heymans asked lazily, leaning back in his chair.

"The two people we were talking to said there'd be some serious trouble if the six of us walked into Lior from the train station. We need to find another method of completing our mission," Riza explained.

"Which includes reaching the town east of Lior without being potentially mauled by angry people," Roy added in a mutter.

"So," Jean said, "who wants to ask those people out there about the kidnappings?"

"Don't bother," drawled a waitress who was making her rounds and arrived at their table. "Most of them are already drunk and they're the rowdy bunch; try approaching one and he'll throw you out the window. Happened just last night."

She gestured to a part of the wall that was boarded up with rotting wood.

"But I _do_ know what's going on with these kidnappings," the waitress added, seeing the defeated and exasperated looks on their faces. Her face, deeply tanned but obviously of Amestrian origins, saddened, and wrinkles appeared around her mouth and the corners of her eyes. "My sister disappeared, you know. And she was going to have her baby in a few days…I just hope she wasn't taken…"

"What kind of people have been disappearing, and where?" Roy asked tersely. If anything, that'll tell him who Huskisson was targeting and where he might just be. Profile a kidnapper or a killer, and the job becomes much easier, except some of these culprits know what in hell they're doing.

"Fathers, mothers, children, refugees from Ishbal, people from Lior, visitors from Central, East, and South…" the waitress counted off thoughtfully. "There were the kidnappings at Lior's marketplace yesterday. Kids leave their homes for the day, and they don't come back. Some people leave town for the day, the weekend, and they just don't come back."

She shrugged. "Oh right, would you like something to drink?"

"Now she asks," Heymans grumbled under his breath. The waitress threw him a dirty look.

They sat in an uncomfortable silence while Beatrice, the waitress, went off to get their drinks. Eyes looked right and left, scanning the hulking forms of men and the slim women as they sat at the bar and around tables, drinking, laughing, muttering, arguing, _talking_.

Vato slumped in his chair and Jean waggled the cigarette in his mouth. Heymans clenched his hands and fiddled his thumbs; Kain took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. The glasses got even more stained than before and he sighed, depressed at his efforts. Roy picked at his coat's collar; Riza touched the ends of her long hair, the other hand resting on Black Hayate's head. The dog sat on his 'mother's' lap, tail wagging limply as he watched the activities in the inn.

Kain suddenly sat up. Eyes turned to him. He gestured for silence, then returned to tending to his glasses.

"…blasphemers won't give…"

"…Master…appeal to their…

"We ought to rise up and _take_ Lior…"

"…the camps of my brothers and sisters…"

They winced. People all around them were talking about the military presence in Lior, the exile of the Ishbalans from their city, and the camps where the majority of the Ishbalans still live today.

They were surrounded by the enemy, a vengeful and broken enemy. Refugees and rebels alike, talking about their homelands.

"What would I give to see my home…"

"…lucky it's only Lior…"

"I lost everything all those years ago…explosions and fire…"

"…everything to the ground, turned to sand…"

Then the conversation abruptly shifted.

"Did you see…"

"…in the moonlight, their eyes glow…"

"…the unholy beasts that roam the city…"

"No way! How would Sun God Leto…"

"…snake's tail…"

"…scaly lions, in the alley yester…"

"…I heard they're called…"

When Beatrice returned, carrying a tray of mugs of various sizes and filled with various hard liquors, she found the group of men and one woman staring wide-eyed at the table.

"Um…is there a problem?" she asked worriedly as she set the tray down and passed around the drinks.

"Tell me," Roy said slowly, carefully, "are there strange beasts wandering around?"

The woman bowed her head. "So you've heard. It's a curse. The people here and in Lior think it's the will of the Sun God Leto. The Ishbalan refugees say it's Ishbala's will, a punishment for committing the sin of alchemy…it _is_ alchemy, isn't it?"

"What kind of monsters…" Kain didn't finish. He looked horrified.

"From what I hear when I make my rounds," Beatrice muttered, leering at the drinking crowd," some of scaly cat-like things. Heads and bodies of lions, but the skin and tail of lizards. Some have goat heads. And lately, some of the men here who own farm animals are complaining that their goats and cows are disappearing…particularly bulls…"

"Thank you for your help," Riza said, and took a sip from her lukewarm glass of water.

Knowing this particular traveling party no longer needed her, Beatrice nodded, picked up her tray, and wandered off into the smoky interior of the inn.

Roy rubbed at his temple while the others sat, fidgeting and worried at the new information.

"Great, Chief," Jean muttered, swirling his glass of brandy. "We've got chimera to deal with."

XXX

If only that _thing_ never found him! Here he was, living in the underground, minding his own business, carrying for his dear, precious _daughter_, and this _thing_ barged in, stating all his wrongs while snatching his dear, precious _daughter_ out of his arms.

And then this monstrosity told him just what he wanted.

"Make me chimera…or you'll never see your daughter again."

What was Shou Tucker to do but comply?

"I cannot," he whispered. "I don't have the materials-"

"Tell me what you need and I'll bring them to you," the monstrosity snapped, eyes gleaming in the single light hanging from the ceiling of the basement laboratory. "I'll bring them; you can do whatever you want with them, and you can rebuild the glory you lost…when you transmuted the very beings you lost. But this time, you won't know who they are, and you aren't obligated to."

"And if I refuse to do this?"

A gnarled hand, nails long and sharp, stroke his daughter's cheek.

"Like I said…"

A twitch and a fine red line appeared on Nina's cheek. Although her facial expression didn't change, Tucker cried out for her.

"I'll be sending someone to keep watch. You might recognize her, or not…"

A slender athletic figure appeared in the shadows at the doorway. Her stern gaze forced Tucker to take a nervous step back. The monstrosity turned to leave.

"But my daughter-"

"The _chimera_, Sewing Life Alchemist. I have a few people and animals upstairs that might suit your needs. I want the first batch by the end of this week, say…two days?"

Tucker stepped forward then, avoiding the figure's gaze. "Who are you, then?"

_Like Lieutenant Colonel Archer, not caring at all what I do with these…things…_

He had finally resorted to calling the living creatures 'things', making it easier for him to make a chimera out of the occasional stray human and animal.

But they usually died.

"You don't need to know, _yet_. I will say…that I have a _vendetta_ against the people who banished you."

The monstrosity turned to the doorway, and the figure there stepped aside.

"Look at it this way, _Alchemist:_ you and I were both pushed away by the State. Isn't it time for a little payback?"

And the hulking form disappeared.

With _his_ daughter.

He's been making chimera after chimera ever since then, steadily progressing from fused creatures that obeyed vocal commands upward until…

"The perfect chimera," his guardian and watcher murmured, looking at the young dark-haired boy huddled in the middle of the rusted cage. His wolf-like golden eyes glared back at her. "You've outdone yourself this time, Alchemist. I'm so jealous…"

Tucker knew who his chaperone was. His eyes craned towards her and her amused smile.

"Just like you, isn't it?"

**XXX**

Author's Endnote: I had a lot more to say…but I forgot. Just that…the A.P. exams are coming up, so it will be _very_ difficult for me to update.

Oh right. Since my laptop crashed, I've been unable to watch _Conqueror of Shamballa_ to affirm some facts. Someone please tell me the name of Huskisson's lab's location, and where exactly was the Thule Society's HQs? I can't move forward with the next chapter without it, heh, heh…

Reviews appreciated.

_ihiisjhdfijksdfHilskjfalskjfalsjflsjfhisdfhsdlfsdkfjlsdjflksdjflksdfjlsdjflsdfjk_


	6. Breath of the Chimera

Author's Note: Ugh, I feel horrible for taking forever with this chapter, and even worse because it's so long I had to split the chapters in two. I hope you enjoy, because I fear I've lost my way near the end.

Edit: There are some serious conflicts of events between the actual events of the movie and this story. I'm not perfect, but I wish I saw the whole movie one more time before I started writing this.

**XXX**

**Return to Shamballa // Rewrite**

**5 – Breath of the Chimera**

The heavy knocking interrupted Brother before he could explain their plans for the rest of the week. Eyes gravitated to the door as Gracia walked to it and turned the knob.

It was Leo.

"I found an eavesdropper," he said calmly, looking at Al and Brother. "It's the girl downstairs."

"Anne?" Officer Hughes asked. "Anne Deibold?"

Brother cringed. Al couldn't blame him.

"Should we be worried?" Jackob questioned, having spotted the look on Brother's face.

"What if she reports us?" Rudolf suddenly blurted out. "What if she heard _everything_ we've said? Everything we said's treason, and if she reports us-"

"She won't." It was Roland. He was still looking at the photograph in his hand. _Poor Roland…_ "No one will listen to the words of a single girl. At least…she won't be taken seriously."

He smiled – or rather, smirked.

"Whatever happens, the bomb isn't going to Berlin," Brother said angrily. "So stop smirking, you-"

"No, Brother!" Al grabbed the older Elric's left arm and jerked him back; Brother started choking on the rest of the sentence. "He's _not_ Colonel Mustang, remember?"

"I _know_ he's not that smug bastard, but he's no different! You are not laying a finger on the bomb-"

"If you find it."

"-_when_ we find it! Got that, _Colonel_?"

Roland stared at the metal finger pointed in his direction. Then he sighed and glanced at Noah, who looked at him disapprovingly.

"Fine. I'll leave the bomb's fate up to you two. But I want to help you two find it. I need something to do."

"_Now_ he needs something to do," Albert muttered.

Somewhere in the apartment, a telephone rang shrilly, and Gracia left the gathering to answer it. Officer Hughes watched her go, then sighed and rose to his feet.

"I have to go to work. I'm late and they're going to count it against me. Figure out exactly what you're going to do, and tell me when I come back. Oh, and keep Roland away from the beer halls."

"Hey! Mayes, you can't tell me what to do!"

"I can and I will. That's what friends are for, Roland. They keep each other from doing anything particularly stupid." Officer Hughes adjusted his cap, then, with a nod to the four former soldiers, Brother, Al, Noah, Saree, and Leo, who was standing near the door, headed out into the hall down towards the stairs.

Gracia reappeared in the living room, eyes wide and terrified.

"Where's Mayes?"

"He went out the door," Heinrich answered, jabbing a thumb towards the door.

"Mayes!" Gracia yelled, running out into the hall and to the stairs. "Mayes, get back here! It's from the office!"

Al wondered what the other end of the phone said that got Gracia so flustered; until now he had never seen her as an excitable person, and nothing ever seemed to upset her. Did Officer Hughes' boss call, demanding why the man was late to work? Oh no, he and Brother didn't get Officer Hughes in trouble, did they, with all their talk about the bomb and what they were planning to do with it? Well, it couldn't be entirely _their_ fault, with Roland and their other soldier friends also gathering here, right? Roland was the one who started talking about bombing one of the cities…But Al hated the thought of getting Officer Hughes in trouble, being such a good friend and all.

"…want me to call back?"

"No, Dennis says that's too risky. He told me what you need to know, and we only got a few minutes before they get here!" Gracia exclaimed as she reappeared, with a winded, frustrated, and hatless police officer in tow. "He said it's a small detail, since I have a clean record and there's no rumors up and down the streets, but just in case, we have to clean out."

"What rumors? Is this about the Gypsies?" Brother demanded, taking charge.

"Mayes, did we get you in trouble? But why would they take the word of a simple girl?" Roland was jostling with the younger man for control.

"Dennis said she 'knew' people," Gracia explained, looking at Officer Hughes significantly.

He smacked himself on the forehead. "You're kidding me. She's actually _in_ with Hitler's little group? That's ridiculous; she's too _young_!"

"When you feed fire to fresh kindling, it burns brightly," Saree countered. "Young people are an impassioned people."

"But _I_ don't feel impassioned about anything!" Rudolf protested, gesturing to himself.

Brother dared anyone with a glare to connect him with such an emotional word. Al himself didn't know. He _had been_ passionate about getting his brother's natural body back…and vice versa. And they succeeded, almost.

"How far would you go to defend this former soldier boy?" Saree asked sweetly, pointing a rather accusatory finger at Roland.

"All the way," was the impromptu reply.

The dark woman smiled triumphantly and said no more.

"What did your friend say, Mayes? Gracia?" Roland demanded, turning away from the baffled younger soldier and the Gypsy.

"We have to get you out of here. I'm sure they'll ignore Jackob, Heinrich, Albert and Rudolf; they're soldiers and the men I work with respect them. Ed, Al, get these three out of here and someplace safe, and make sure to get rid of all evidence from your apartment."

"I'll tell the other tenants about the search and what they _haven't_ seen. You four spread the word."

"What if they're the kind of people who blame _us_ for losing the war?" Heinrich asked.

"Don't worry. I was selective with my tenents."

"Brother and I know a way into the alley; that way, no one can see Noah, Saree, and Leo out on the streets," Al suggested as Brother gestured to the three named people. Roland rose to his feet while Jackob, Heinrich, Albert, and Rudolf gathered with Gracia to listen to her instructions. Officer Hughes nodded to the black-haired man.

"You should go with the Elrics. I can't be seen with you, especially if the Deibold girl fingers you. She saw you last night."

Roland sighed, either dejected at the situation or disgusted that he was going to be stuck with the Elrics, the older in particular. Brother didn't look too happy as well. He kept glaring at the older man, and Al had to tap him on the right shoulder to snap him out of his hate-induced trance.

"Brother, we have to go."

XXX

A river ran through Munich and streets crossed over it every which way. It was a beautiful moving body of water, pristine and with the occasional family of ducks paddling in it. In the morning, people who actually had jobs would be seen crossing the bridges curtly to their workplaces; in the afternoon, children with stale yesterday's bread, sold cheap at local bakeries scattered throughout the city, would toss pieces and crumbs into the water, and laugh in delight as ducks and fish came to feed.

Roland flicked the last hard crust of bread, then his shoulders sagged and he sighed. Ed looked at him sharply, wondering what was going through his mind. Al was sitting on the bridge railing, ignoring Ed's warning and swinging his legs back and forth.

Noah, Saree, and Leo were now staying with a local family that Ed and Al were friendly with. They never asked why these three strangers needed a place to hide for at least a day, just wordlessly invited them into the plain, unsuspecting house near the river.

Later that night, Ed'll come get Noah to help the Elrics find the fission bomb and a way to recreate and reopen the Gate. They'll also need Fritz's help finding the villa which housed the Thule Society. Al had gone to the warehouse where Fritz was filming, and the large man had agreed.

A few minutes ago Albert had come running to them. While Al warded off the mongrel chasing after the heavyset man, Albert told Ed and Roland that the detail had come and combed through the entire apartment complex. The police officers Anne guided to the building had grown skeptical and a bit angry when she persisted in saying the landlady was housing a traitor, but some idiot in the neighboring building complex had come forward to back up the blonde girl's statement.

"We're not going back anytime soon, are we?" Al sighed.

"Never," Ed muttered fiercely.

"You're never coming back?" Roland asked curiously.

Ed shook his head.

"I see…"

The mother duck quacked loudly and began paddling downriver. Five half-grown ducklings followed her obediently. Roland smiled, then sighed heavily, sagging against the rails.

Ed watched the solemn man's gaze follow the family of ducks swim under the bridge.

"Tell me, Edward," Roland said quietly and thoughtfully, "have you ever seen the ocean?"

The ocean? The beautiful endless blue landscape that rolled and tossed foamy white hands up the sandy shore? The shimmer of reflected sunlight across its surface? The fishing boats trolling for the daily catch? The screeching white seagulls circling the wonderfully salty air?

An old man running a vendor and selling roasted fish told Ed and Al once about the ancient sea god Poseidon and his horses of white foam. Later that evening, the two brothers watched the waves and thought they could see these mythical horses charge up with the waves and then draw back into the blue sea.

"Yeah," the older Elric answered, his voice low and husky with the fond memory. "We've been to it a few weeks ago. Normandy, I think, in France. Why?"

"Hohenheim," and Roland tilted his head to the cloudy sky, "said that where he came from, there was no such thing as the sea. There were great bodies of water, and rivers, but never something like the Atlantic. He told me he'll never forget standing on the beach, staring at the 'endless ocean', and feeling so small and insignificant. He's seen and heard, spoken and done incredible things, but the Atlantic humbled him, reminded him of his place in the world, this world or the other."

"It is beautiful," Al added. "I don't think I'll ever get over it, or forget it."

"What about fish? Ever tried the fish?"

"It's…different," Al began with some difficulty.

Ed jabbed a thumb at his chest. "I love it. He doesn't."

He twisted his wrist and pointed the thumb at the younger Elric's direction.

Roland chuckled. "Well…I'm glad you at least got to see the ocean before you leave this world."

"Why's that?" Al asked.

The black-haired man smiled a secret knowing smile.

Seeing something…as majestic and overpowering as the ocean…it makes you realize how small you are compared to the rest of the world. Maybe you already knew that, but a lot of people need that wake-up call. I certainly did…we're so small, so insignificant. No matter how powerful we become, with science and technology…and alchemy, we're nothing compared to the whole earth. We're just a small part of it, and no matter what we do, life goes on."

The brothers stared at him a bit, wondering at the nostalgic feeling washing through them as they listened to his words.

"One is all…" Al said quietly.

"…and all is one," Ed finished.

The two brothers smiled with fond remembrance.

"Uh…I don't get it."

The Elrics looked at Mustang's alter ego.

"You don't have to."

The bell tower began to toll the hours. Al slid off the rail as Ed stood up and stretched his arms out.

"Dinner."

And after dinner…they were homeward bound.

XXX

It was utterly unfair. He never got a chance to put in his two cents or argue his case against theirs. Just because he was so young, and had such a low rank…but it was unfair! Unfair!

So here he was, crushed between a dirty whitewashed wall and Heymans' bulky mass. The window was right above him, casting a dim light into the room. The mattress was worn out and small, made with one person in mind. Well, this room was made for _two_ guests, not six people and a dog.

Black Hayate yawned and stretched out on Kain's stomach. Well, Kain didn't mind this guest; he smiled and stroked the dog's head. Black Hayate opened one sleepy eye, and wagged his tail.

"Can't wait 'till we get back to Central," he sighed and closed his eyes, trying to will sleep to come so the rest of the night would go away. That was proving a bit difficult, though. The room was _stifling_.

Weight shifted on his stomach and Kain opened an eye. Black Hayate was on his feet, sniffing. His tail was rigid, ears perked and swiveling this way and that.

"What is it, Hayate?" he murmured.

The dog's lip rose up, baring sharp pearly whites. His head turned to the window.

"Ah-ah-ah-uh…" Kain sat up quickly. Black Hayate ignored him, kept sniffing. Then he barked.

"Hayate!" the major sergeant hissed. "Hayate, what-"

"Kain Fuery!" It was Hawkeye. She was on the other bed parallel to the one Kain and Heymans was sharing. "Wake Breda. Move _away_ from the window."

As she whispered the command, she reached for the firearm on the rickety bedside table in between the mattresses.

Kain nodded, then pushed the dog off of him and slid towards the head of the mattress. Then he swung his legs around – taking care not to smack the second lieutenant in the head, and touched the wood floor.

"Breda, Heymans Breda!" he whispered to the man urgently. "Wake up!"

Black Hayate stood in front of the window, hair rising on the back, tail quivering, nose sniffing. His teeth were bared, and he growled deep in his chest.

The light dimmed, abruptly vanished, and returned as Black Hayate released a sharp bark.

"Shut that mutt up!" was Jean's muffled retort from the bed sitting perpendicular to the other two. Two of the workers in the shabby inn had to push in the spare, making the place very cramped.

"J-Jean-" Kain stammered as Black Hayate barked again.

Heymans sat up abruptly, throwing blankets over the dog's body. "W-what's that _beast_ doing on this bed?!"

"Breda!" Hawkeye barked as she pushed her torso up and cocked her handgun. "Heymans, get off the bed!"

Something heavy hit the outside of the inn. Kain yelped, yanked back the blankets, and freed a fussed Black Hayate, who sniffed once, barked, and leaped away as the window shattered.

"What the-" Vato sat up quickly, neatly shoving Jean to the floor, lumpy pillow, blankets, and all.

"Duck!" Kain yelled as Jean sat up with a groan, and the man quickly laid back down as something long and scaly slid into the room and swung.

Hawkeye opened fire and everyone threw themselves out of the way as the scaly tail-like thing recoiled, then lashed out at her. The arm slung over her waist tightened and pulled her down as the thing brushed by in its search for its assailant. Black Hayate barked furiously and leaped at the thing but it pulled out of the room through the broken window.

Noise outside the hall signaled that the others in the inn had woken to the commotion. Jean yelled at the voices to evacuate the inn while the others hastily tried to find their clothing. Kain had his shirt halfway over his head when Black Hayate started snarling and barking. Hawkeye cocked her handgun.

A _lion_'s head pushed itself into the room through the window, breaking off and showering Kain and Heymans with more shards. It thundered furiously, then massive deformed claws were scrambling, breaking off bits of the wall as the great beast forced itself into the room.

"A chimera," Vato murmured when the beast took a breather.

"Yeah, thanks for stating the obvious," Jean retorted as he clicked the safety off his own firearm.

"Dammit, Riza, where'd you put my gloves?" their commander demanded furiously as he went through his bag.

"In my coat pocket, Sir-get down!"

Mustang ducked as a chunk of wall flew through the space his head previously occupied.

"What _is_ that thing?" Heymans screamed in frustration as he scrambled for his handgun.

Everyone knew what was attacking them, but it didn't hurt anyone to demand such a question with such emotion at this time.

Kain seconded the question as he aimed at what looked like the chimera's shoulder. It was a monstrosity on so many levels, with a lion's head, a serpent's tail, and deformed paws with…seven…claws, sharp and gleaming under the night light. Spikes protruded from the beast's shoulders and back, and the bony extensions gouged the wall as the chimera pulled more of itself into the room. Black Hayate barked incessantly, then leaped up and bit down hard on a paw intent on crushing Heymans.

Vato fired at its shoulder. The chimera shuddered, then quickly turned to the Warrant Officer and lashed out; the claws managed to shred the front of the man's shirt as he leaped back. Then Jean rolled in and shot at the chimera's chest, and rolled out, barely avoiding the seven claws coming down on his head.

The tail was still outside the inn, and it kept slapping the wall, jolting Kain, who had been pressing his body against it as though it would protect him. He gasped, scrambled away from the wall and the falling white chips of whitewash, then quickly cocked his handgun and fired somewhere at the chimera's lion's main. The beast snarled, more annoyed than pained, and twisted its body towards Kain, destroying more and more of the inn as it tried to get its massive body in.

"Kain, drop!" Hawkeye ordered and the young man didn't hesitate to obey the sharp-shooting superior.

"Hawkeye, dammit, where's my gloves?" Mustang fumed as he continued searching frantically. His head was dusted with crushed whitewash and he shook his head constantly as he tossed clothing about, ducking at regular intervals as the beast continued trashing the room.

"_In my coat pocket_-Kain, get down!" Hawkeye aimed and fired, one bullet. The chimera groaned, swung its head at Kain, and he sat down abruptly, staring at the single bullet hole between the eyes, the bloody red eyes.

"You'll…" The chimera was _talking_, in a wheezing deep voice. "You'll…pay."

The chimera abruptly collapsed, and Black Hayate leaped forward, barking shrilly as the beast exhaled.

Jean sighed and sat down on the wreckage-laden mattress closest to him.

No rest for the weary. As soon as the sharpshooter sat down, something else hit the building. Another chimera, but with a dog's head. Scratch that. There were three, and a serpent's tail, very thick and leathery.

"AGH!" Heymans stumbled back and fell down abruptly. "No, get that thing away from me! Argh-oh my god!"

A massive hawk's head burst in. The three-headed chimera howled and turned on the bird, which screeched and lashed out with its cruel hooked beak.

"Unbelievable," Jean murmured, too shocked to take aim and fire. Hawkeye didn't hesitate, though, and shot the bird's head through the eye. Dark liquid splashed on Heymans, who wiped at the mess.

"Disgusting-ah! GET AWAY, GET AWAY!" One of the three dog heads spotted him and growled, lunged at him as the middle head went for Hawkeye. With a yelp, the chimera went sprawling, throwing pieces of things into the air as the two of the three heads fought over control of the body.

"Ah-ha!" came the brigadier general's triumphant cry.

_Snap_.

The chimera shrieked and pulled back as fire encircled it, burned it. Kain threw his hand up over his face, shielding his eyes against the bright yellow-orange glow.

"Sir, control your fire," Hawkeye warned coldly, taking aim as the chimera overcame the shock and lunged again. Half of its body was smoking, and a retching stench filled the room. A waft of it, and Kain vomited whatever remained of dinner out of his stomach onto the wall. Gunfire, and the beast's roar shook the room. Jean was spitting and wiping his mouth vigorously, Heymans was cowering behind one of the overturned beds, his phobia crippling him.

"Heymans Breda, what do you think you're doing?" Mustang demanded as Black Hayate leaped at the chimera; one of its heads was limp, handicapping the alchemy-made beast.

"Vato? Vato Falman!" Jean yelled as the beast lunged for Hawkeye. "Vato, damnit, where'd you go?"

He avoided a swipe, then aimed and fired at the offending limb. The chimera screamed and lunged at him, but most of its attention was on Hawkeye, who was quickly reloading her handgun. Mustang snapped his fingers and the chimera backed up, startled by the burst of fire.

The First Lieutenant cocked her handgun and fired.

The chimera collapsed.

Coughing at the dust cloud that bloomed from under the beast's body, Kain sat up, pushed away rubble on his lower legs. Heymans was making odd noises in his throat. Jean was swearing softly, waving away at the white dust. Mustang and Hawkeye, both grimfaced and dirty from the abrupt fight, approached the offending mass, the brigadier general ready to snap his fingers and the group's sharpshooter aiming her handgun at the middle dog head.

The scrapped up but otherwise uninjured left head opened one right eye, and the handgun swung in its direction. Mustang marched right up to the ugly head and stared down at it with his one eye. Black Hayate emerged from somewhere, covered in dirt and dust, growling as he slowly padded up to the dying chimera.

"I know you can talk," Mustang said coldly. "Who sent you?"

The chimera coughed; dark blood leaked from its mouth. The pool was growing rapidly; Kain scrambled to his feet and backed away from the liquid.

"Answer me, chimera," Mustang continued. "Who sent you!"

The chimera coughed again. Its open eye, dark and clouding, looked up at Mustang, then around him. The other eye was partially swollen but opened, too; Kain gulped and tried to step out of range.

"You…you will…pay…alchemist," the chimera wheezed. "State…alchemist…_die_!"

The chimera heaved itself up and lunged at Mustang, but Hawkeye and Jean were much faster. Heymans ducked behind the bed and Kain leaped back instinctively, curling himself into a little ball as two gunshots rang out and the chimera collapsed again.

Mustang glared at it, then at the lion-headed chimera and the bird-headed beast. Both were beginning to decompose quickly and the scent was spreading. Kain pinched his nose as nausea threatened to overwhelm him again; the smell was absolutely revolting.

"Vato, where the hell are you?" Jean shouted angrily as he went around the inn room, kicking at rubble. "Chief, I can't find Vato. He's not here!"

"What do you mean, he's not here?" Mustang demanded. "He can't just disappear! Falman, where are you?"

Commotion. The streets were stirring. Voices and movement, opening doors and lights in the nearby buildings – night had been interrupted.

"I hate dogs!" Heymans muttered as he glared at the rotting body of the three-headed chimera. "I hate them!"

Black Hayate barked back at the sweating red-faced man.

"Chief!" Jean pointed at the edges of the gaping hole on the side. "Chief, I think there was another chimera here. Right here…and last time I saw Vato, he was right…there."

Mustang frowned and walked over to Jean. Kain decided to join when Hawkeye and Heymans headed to the wall as well.

When he joined, Mustang was pointing outside, eastward, towards Lior. Lights were on in all the buildings, yet the sky was blue-black. The horizon was bleeding pale blue. It was morning already for those who were awakened by the chimera.

"…that direction, now," Mustang was saying. "We don't have a minute to lose. Black Hayate can lead the way if we get lost."

Said dog barked, presumably in agreement.

"What direction?" Kain asked, baffled.

Hawkeye answered as the others dispersed to salvage their belongings. "It looks like another chimera came here and took Falman. We're leaving in a few minutes to get him back."

"But I never saw anyt-"

"Nobody has. But the evidence says _something_ happened," Jean butted in as he fished out Vato's bag. "If only one of these bastards talked before dying, everything would've been so much easier. At least we could find out who's behind all this!"

"Don't you know?" Heymans asked bitterly. "It's Huskisson."

Kain groaned. Jean shook his head as he pulled a bent and worn cigarette from the pocket of the jacket he pulled on over his ruined shirt; he stuck the cigarette in his mouth and said, "I'm talking about the one who made these. Tucker, I think, the Sewing Life Alchemist?"

"He could be out here," Hawkeye suggested as she reloaded her handgun, loudly. "He could be using the kidnapped civilians for…making chimera…"

The very thought of Falman fusing with, say, a dog like Black Hayate did not sit well with Kain. He laughed nervously as he pulled out his bag from under the rubble from the wall, and opened it, looking for his jacket. "I hope that never happens to our Warrant Officer!"

"I agree," was Mustang's stern reply. "Let's go."

The superior in the room slung his bag over his shoulder and used his free hand to wrestle open the door. Quite literally blown off its hinges, it fell under pressure, and Mustang stepped out.

The others filed out after him. Kain was last, with Black Hayate sniffing around his feet. The hallway he walked out of the ruined hotel into was a mess. A few dusty frames on the pinstripe wall were violently crooked, and the few people who were in the hall when the attack initiated were sitting around, knocked out and confused. Others were still clutching to the doorframes of their rooms, staring around wildly, confused.

"What was that all about?" one annoyed person demanded.

"None of your business," Mustang said curtly as he strode past the dark-haired man.

"Do you know what's going on?" It was Beatrice, disheveled and wet. She appeared to have been taking a shower. "I just finished my shift, came up here to take a shower, and suddenly the entire inn shakes-"

"Confidential. Please have everyone evacuate the inn before something else happens," Hawkeye interrupted.

Black Hayate suddenly barked at Beatrice as Kain walked by her, then bounded after Hawkeye. Kain looked back, but the woman had turned her attention to the people in the hallway, directing them towards the exits and out of the damaged building.

A thought suddenly struck him as the group filed down the rickety wooden stairs.

_I thought her eyes were green, but just a moment ago, they looked…purple?_

XXX

She let the people staying in the inn leave first, then went to the damaged room the one-eyed man and his party were staying at. Holding onto the doorway, she peered in, and raised an eyebrow at the damage done, including the gaping hole in the wall. As she watched, another chunk of the wall fell from the top of the gap onto the floor.

The beds were upturned, the bedside table was broken, and powdered whitewash was _everywhere_. She wrinkled her nose at this, disgusted at the extent of the damage, then turned and walked down the hall. She could hear the confused voices outside, the innkeeper's booming, outraged voice, and the word passed from one to another.

"Chimera!"

Beatrice smiled, then walked into her room. She was intent on drying herself and changing. She closed the door behind her, then stiffened.

"I'm impressed. Excellent work."

She relaxed, recognizing the voice. A toothy grin appeared on her face as she turned.

"I told you. Wasn't I good?"

The black-haired woman on her bed nodded in acknowledgement. "As long as you didn't give in to your…rage…everything's just fine."

"Aw, why don't you trust me-"

"_But_ you're a bit hasty. Downside of your characteristic, I think. One of the soldier boys noticed something funny about you. Your eyes."

The purple eyes closed. When Beatrice opened her eyes again, they were green. The waitress grinned. "Just one small slip…who's going to believe him, anyways?"

"The brigadier general doesn't let things go. Just be careful next time. Oh, and we're moving. Better release the woman."

"Already did. Sent her out when the chimera attacked. Y'know, I was hoping it wasn't a head-on assault. _Really_ unnerved me."

"Get over it. Now hurry up. We don't have much time to waste. You have your other job to get back to."

Beatrice smiled. "I thought you told me not to rush…"

The green eyes closed, then opened wide.

Slit pupil and purple.

XXX

She decided that after they survive this chimera-induced ordeal, she was going to chew out the brigadier general about boundaries and privacy and personal space.

Yes, he did save her life early in the battle because of this, but who gave him permission to just _casually_ sling his arm around her waist anyways?

Heck, she wasn't even supposed to be sharing the mattress with him, or the room with all the other men in the first place. They weren't even supposed to be in the run-down inn in the town outside of Lior; they were supposed to be on the train, passing the third night with as much comfort as wooden benches would allow them. Then it would've been Lior and they would've had places to stay in the military-run barracks. Or perhaps an inn, if they were going to remain incognito in the city. Places that would allow for _plenty_ of space.

But somewhere back in her mind bubbled up a suggestion. No clear cut words spoken in her own voice, just a sensation, a feeling that left her a bit chilled, a bit winded.

Last night, when she first became aware of the danger outside the inn, she felt his presence right behind her, the arm around her waist, the warmth of a trusted person, and she almost relaxed, forgot the threat that first woke her. It was a disarming presence, a comfort that told her she was safe, that she didn't have to worry, but she wasn't, and she was glad Black Hayate reminded her of that. She had snapped out of the trance when he snarled at the presence at the window, had reached for her handgun, had warned Sergeant Major Kain Fuery before the chimera charged in and the battle exploded.

Riza wished the sudden fight didn't have to end with a chase into the desert; her body was weary, starting to fall behind her mind and the task at hand. But she wasn't alone; everyone was lagging, and the minor injuries inflicted during the fight with the chimera were draining them of energy.

The sun was peeking over the horizon, a flat horizon of dust and scraggly trees and footprints. Just one small puff of air, a blast of morning wind, and the traces would disappear, and Vato Falman would be lost in the desert, at the mercy of the chimera, their creator, and Huskisson.

Huskisson. Of all things, they were closing in on their target, the purpose of their mission. No big deal, right? One mission after another mission after another…

Then why did she have this strange, strange feeling that nothing at all was as it seems? What was Huskisson's reappearance telling her? Him? Them? The people? The country?

Or was she just complicating a very simple mission? Maybe it was her lack of sleep, but she was used to that by now. The others weren't, though.

"I…can't…take…this…" Heymans was puffing hard, his face furiously red. As if on cue, Black Hayate made a roundabout and joined the heavyset man on his staggering jog. "Agh, get away from me!"

Riza smiled knowingly as the man sped up, trying to flee her dog.

"Where the hell are we headed?" Jean groaned. He lost his cigarette stick a while back and was very, very sour. That attitude was not lost on a grumpy Brigadier General, who rudely told the Second Lieutenant to shut up.

"I think…Lior?" Kain suggested, trying as always to be helpful. He kept pushing his glasses up his nose as he ran; each sinking step into the sand forced the glasses to slide down.

"Huskisson won't be based in Lior," Roy decided while the group took a quick breather. "Too dangerous."

"You think he's out here in the blasted desert?" Heymans demanded, not happy with the prospect of wandering in the desert after the tracks.

"Might as well. When we find him, we'll find out. Let's move."

The sun was rising, the air was warming, and the tracks were leading them deeper and deeper into the unknown east. Riza began to wonder who it was they were dealing with. It was a blast from the past, seeing the scientist's name on the file Vato had brought in several days ago. Will anything involving the young Fullmetal Alchemist ever leave them alone?

XXX

Noah led them, from one dark street corner to another, skirting around the police officers patrolling the streets and the drunken men leaving the beer halls. Sober Heinrich, silently assigned the task of Roland's keeper, kept a grip on the man's arm to make sure he stayed on track as the Roma woman led them towards the outskirts of Munich. That's where the villa was, the place far removed from the rest of society for good reason.

"I hope the others don't get caught," Heinrich muttered worriedly when the group froze in the shadows and waited for two laughing officers to pass by.

Ed rudely silenced him with a low hissing noise.

Even if the rendezvous didn't go as planned, nobody was going to stop the Elric brothers from finding the bomb. There was the problem of possible guards posted throughout the premises of the ruined villa; Jackob had gone scouting earlier in the day and made note of the obstacle at hand.

"The place is huge, and there's not enough guards, but just enough to notice if something's off," he had warned during dinner at an obscure café in one of the shadier places in Munich.

Everyone remembered the wolf whistle aimed at Noah, who Ed, Al, and Roland had picked up on the way.

"Are we there yet?" Roland grumbled. They had ducked yet again, and the man had nearly fallen into a puddle of something nobody wanted to find out about.

"No, you bastard," Ed retorted. Al elbowed him. "Ow!"

"Sh!" Noah hissed, her eyes wide with apprehension.

"Did Edward really hate this look-a-like of mine?" Roland asked mildly as he sidestepped the clumpy puddle.

Al nodded with the sigh of someone who witnessed the conflicts for far too long.

Noah gestured and they hurriedly followed her. The environment was slowly changing, more and more trees replacing lampposts and houses. They hadn't seen a drunk in a while, or a policeman, although they occasionally had to duck at the sound of a car's engine; Noah was leading them alongside a road that led outside Munich, and possibly to the villa.

"I hope the others didn't get lost," Heinrich muttered darkly as they walked cautiously in the shadows of the trees.

The others murmured their agreement, but tried not to think of such doubtful thoughts. It didn't help that the darkness was slowly heightening their paranoia; Al accidentally stepped on a branch that snapped loudly, and Ed nearly went crazy thinking someone was following them.

Maybe someone was. Noah froze and the others did, too, with Roland's foot still up in the air.

"Noah?" Ed asked worriedly.

"Sh!" She held a finger to her lips, then gestured to somewhere behind them down the road.

A car was approaching. They could see its bright lights far back down the road, and from the looks of it, the car was approaching very fast.

Heinrich took over and swiftly shoved everyone into the underbrush. Ed began to protest but Al quickly covered his older brother's mouth as the others lay on their stomachs, elbows, and knees, holding their breaths and hoping the car would just whiz by and leave them alone.

The car was slowing down. Roland swore and Noah kicked him hard enough to make him wince.

"…swear they said they were going up this road…"

Eyes widened. Officer Hughes?

"Maybe they're already at the villa. Let's go-"

"Wait!" Ed burst out of the bushes. "Fritz! What are you doing here?"

"Mayes!" Roland followed swiftly, indignantly. "What do you think you're doing? This has nothing to do with you!"

"Thought I'd help," was the officer's reply. "I'm up for some adventure."

"You've already had one," Al said reproachfully as he joined them. Noah and Heinrich stood up, brushing off leaves and branches.

"And you're going to get married," Roland accused. "Don't go around risking your life."

The man shook his head. "She knows. She wants me to baby-sit you and make sure you don't do anything…ridiculous."

Roland snorted. "I'm not that out of control…"

"Well, are we leaving or not?" Fritz asked jovially, though everyone could hear the concern in his voice. Ed nodded and leaped into the car. The others piled in; Fritz was driving and Ed was riding shotgun.

"So why are you helping us again?" Ed asked as the car began to move.

"When you're filming an adventure, you ought to know how it feels to be in one."

"Didn't you already have one? Brother told me about your hunt for the 'dragon'," Al questioned.

"Ah, that. I had fun, until the Thule Society butted in. Now a quest, well…first I quested for a dragon, and now something different. We're on a quest, my friends, for something we have to destroy. That's a different kind of adventure, and a more fulfilling one, I think. A quest is a journey to achieve a goal; who knows what you'll see and experience along the way. Exotic sights and places, and some character building…that's why Mr. Hughes and I decided to help you. And here we are…the setting of our quest."

The villa itself looked quite literally like ancient ruins, with ivy crawling up the walls and the broken windows. The wall surrounding the area was intact, but the iron gate blocking the road looked…

"Brother what do you think did that?" Al asked as Fritz stopped the car and everyone stared at the huge dents and tears into the metal. There was a huge gap between the two pieces, and the metal had been rolled back, as if something huge had forced its way through. Beyond that, on the empty courtyard in the moonlight was a body lying in a glistening dark pool…half a body.

"Where's the other half?" Ed said.

"It's got to be one of the guards," Roland declared and jumped out of the car. "Let's go."

Heinrich reached for something at his waist, and pulled out an old pistol. He cocked it. Officer Hughes picked up the cue and pulled out his own standard-issue firearm. He pointed its muzzle to the ground.

The others quickly followed Roland. Ed glanced at Officer Hughes and saw he looked rather shaky and green in the bluish white light. "Officer Hughes, are you okay?"

"I hope so…" the man replied, his voice quavering. "That's got to be the gruesome sight I've ever seen…"

One by one they slipped between the iron – Fritz had to fight his way through, being the largest person in the group – and Roland sprinted over to the corpse. He stopped short a meter from the body.

"Looks like something tore it in half…and dragged the other part somewhere else…" he said, staring down at the smears on the cobblestone.

"What about the other guards?" Al asked.

"What about the others?" Noah added, standing a good distance from the body. She held a hand to her mouth, her eyes averted. Ed thought for a moment, then stepped in front of the body, shielding the Gypsy from the gore.

"We should check around. Something's here; we should stick together."

The others nodded in agreement and quickly moved away from the guard's body. It didn't take long, though, to find another body of a guard, this time in the shadow of the villa. His face had been torn off and his organs were spilling out of the huge gash on his stomach. Officer Hughes bolted and retched into the overgrown ivy. This time Al stepped in front of Noah, blocking her view of the guard's body.

"What is going on?" Fritz wondered. His dark eyes saddened as he looked down on the guard's body. "The poor man…"

"What about the others?" Heinrich asked. "You think they're safe?"

"Did they make it this far?" Officer Hughes asked as he looked around. He cocked his handgun and Ed flinched.

"Let's keep moving," Roland muttered. "Edward, how'd you get in?"

"Through the vents, but we'd better find another way in. Noah?"

She nodded. Having been brought here before, she knew where to go from the front. The group maneuvered through the abandoned and overgrown landscape, the Elric brothers carefully shielding her from any horribly torn body they stumbled upon along the way.

"What do you think did this?" Al whispered as Officer Hughes and Heinrich pushed open one of the doors into the villa.

"Something not human," Ed answered. Al nodded, knowing they were in agreement that something sinister was lurking in the villa.

"How do you think it got here?"

"You don't think-"

"Nothing in this world can do something like that, Brother."

"But that bastard destroyed the circle, didn't he?"

"Brother, of course he did! He doesn't have a reason to just leave it alone, and you know it!"!"

"I know, I know…"

"What are you talking about?" Heinrich asked, butting in on what must've been random babble to his ears.

"What do you think attacked those guards?" Ed challenged.

"Ah…I…"

"Tell me," Ed continued, yellowish eyes watching the Falman look-a-like carefully, "have you seen anything like that on the battlefield?"

The man winced at the last word, and Al threw his brother a very dirty look. Roland must've heard the question as well; he was frowning deeply.

"No," Heinrich finally said.

Ed sighed. Al then suggested, "What if someone else created the circle and opened it?"

"Who? The colonel won't just _casually_ share the information with anyone, and the only other person who knows about the place doesn't understand alchemy. She never will."

"Oh…Rosé…"

The name echoed in the darkness. Al hastily drew a transmutation in the dust, bit his bottom lip hard, and used the blood and the surrounding material to make a makeshift lamp. Fritz provided a match, and soon a dim flickering yellow light was leading them deep into the villa, towards the basement where the Gate once was.

"What if we can't find the bomb?" Al asked worriedly.

"We have to," Ed retorted, grounding his teeth as doubt hammered at his resolve. "We have to, Al. Having that weapon on this side of the Gate worries me."

"You're afraid," Fritz said wisely.

"No, worried."

"Admit it," Roland said as Noah and Officer Hughes led them around a corner and a hall coated with dust and cobwebs and rubble. "You're afraid. You're afraid of what this bomb of yours can do to Germany, and the world. What's so wrong in admitting your fear?"

"Because he's afraid of admitting he's afraid," Officer Hughes countered, and a low chuckle emerged from everyone who found it funny. Ed fumed.

"Are we there yet?" he asked briskly, ignoring the laughter as he charged to the front and Noah's side.

She turned and looked at him, and he found her eyes were wide with apprehension. "Noah?"

"There's a presence here," she murmured, turning her head to look down the dark hall. "It won't like being interrupted."

Suddenly everyone was quiet, ears straining to hear what the Gypsy girl had to say.

"Interrupted?" Al echoed. "What's it doing?"

"Something it shouldn't do," Fritz quipped. "Stick together, everyone. I can feel it, too."

Echoes. Something had collapsed, or fallen and hit something else. Roland actually jumped, and Ed sniggered just loudly enough for the man to hear him.

"Who's afraid now?"

Heinrich sighed and shook his head.

Another collapse. Everyone froze up; the sounds were closer and Heinrich was now pushing everyone forward, muttering nervously that the sounds were coming from behind him.

And what was that panting noise echoing throughout the hall? What panting noise?

Roland held his hand up, stiffly, and everyone stopped and stared at him, instinctively waiting for the command, whatever it was. His face was grim, and Ed understood then that the former soldier knew there was a problem.

Officer Hughes and Heinrich looked at each other nervously, gripped their handguns tightly. Al grabbed his older brother's arm while Noah and Fritz instinctively drew to each other for comfort by number. Roland's lips curled up in a snarl.

The heavy nonhuman breathing was so near nobody felt the courage to turn and see its source. Hearts pounding, blood pulsing, they stood there, frozen, unwilling to face the truth, that they were in serious trouble.

Behind them, something snapped, and eyes turned.

From the flickering shadows cast by the lantern a horrible scaly beast emerged. Its ugly head, a cross between a lion and a horse, tilted sideways and its beady black eyes studied its prey curiously.

"My…my _god_," Fritz whispered.

As alchemists, Ed and Al didn't believe in a god, but suddenly Ed wished there was some heavenly being who could strike down and rid of this beast. If only this world followed the same laws as their world did! Then he would've clapped his hands and gotten rid of the chimera – he was certain it was one, certain beyond a doubt – almost instantly.

"A chimera," Al said, his voice shaking. "Brother, what do we do?"

A click. Heinrich had clicked off the safety on his handgun. "I'll hold it off."

Officer Hughes joined him. Roland watched with a blank face as his friend moved past him, then whirled around. "Mayes, don't even think about it!"

"Hey, I'm the one with the gun here," the man replied playfully, though his face was pale. He looked at the Elric brothers. "You two do what you need to do. Heinrich and I can take care of this…monster."

"Officer Hughes, we can't let you do that," Ed said angrily while Al crouched down and hastily traced a transmutation circle.

"And I won't let you do _that_, either," the man retorted and scuffed out the circle with his boot. Al looked up at him quickly, startled and a bit angry. "Gracia'll understand me. She always will."

"You're not even married yet!" Al exclaimed. He winced at the volume of his own voice, then winced again as the chimera snapped its heavy jaws.

"I hate to say this," Fritz said slowly, his hand on Noah's shoulder, "but he's right. We're here to help you two get rid of the bomb and go home. We're putting ourselves on the line for _you_, and you can't stop us. We have to go."

"Mayes-"

"Roland, I mean it. Heinrich and I will be fine, I swear."

Ed growled but Roland stepped forward, grabbed him by his automail arm and began to haul him off.

"Let me go, you bastard! Hey! Hey, are you listening to me? Let me go!"

Al whimpered, stared at the fixed determination in the former colonel's face as he pulled Ed along. He then looked at Officer Hughes and Heinrich, suddenly saw the Lieutenant Colonel Hughs and Falman.

"Please don't die," he whispered, remembering when he first heard the news about Hughes. "Don't die because of us."

He then bit his bottom lip hard and dropped to his knees, smeared the fresh blood on his thumb and slammed his hands down on the circle he had been tracing with his foot.

A huge chunk of wall jutted out and slammed into the chimera, crushing it against the opposite wall. The monster gave a strangled shriek, then was cut off as bones crushed under the force.

Heinrich and Officer Hughes lowered their arms. Al stared at the chimera, then at the two men, then beyond to where his brother and the others were-they weren't there. They had gone ahead. The lantern sat on the ground behind them, giving off continuous but frail light.

"There's more," Heinrich warned and raised his arms again.

Heavy breathing, panting, excitement. More beasts crept out from the darkness. Some had the same head and muscular body as the first chimera, but others looked like warty dogs, albeit with scaly smooth skin. Heinrich shuddered and Officer Hughes clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering.

"Al, get out of here," Officer Hughes ordered as the beasts advanced, climbing over the piece of wall that crushed the first chimera.

"No, I could take them on-"

"Alphonse Elric, listen to what he has to say," Heinrich interrupted. The young man stared at him; how'd he know Al's whole name? "Go to the others. They're waiting to search the bomb and help you two go home-"

"But what if the chimera already got to them?" Al asked worriedly. He hadn't realized it until now that the others – Jackob, Albert, and Rudolf – could have already met the chimera. And if the guards outside gave any indication…

"It doesn't matter! Go, Al! Now!" Officer Hughes said angrily. His eyes flashed to Al. "Go!"

He didn't want to, Al really didn't want to, but his feet were carrying him away and he couldn't do anything as the candlelight disappeared and gunshots reverberated down the hall around him.

XXX

He didn't even _remember_ being abducted by the chimera. He only remembered shooting the lion-like monster, then something slammed into the back of his head and here he was, somewhere underground, arms tied behind his back and his body facing a crude cage holding tens of people. They were all staring back at him, eyes wide. Eyes that were black and brown and blue and green and red.

The kidnapped. The abducted. The ones who disappeared from the Eastern area. And the scaly lizard-like creatures sitting in a broken circle around the cage were chimera. One slender head was staring expectantly at Vato Falman and he didn't know what to do about it.

Then he noticed the distance between himself and the prisoners. He noticed the etchings on the stone ground. He realized it was a circle, and another circle, and some geometric shapes, and writing. A transmutation circle. He was familiar with those – who wouldn't be, if one was working for an alchemist? – but he wasn't sure what its function was. He wasn't an alchemist, after all.

"Awake, are we?"

He didn't recognize the voice but it sounded rather raspy. Paper-thin. And filled with malice.

He chose to say nothing.

"I read about you," the voice said. It was smirking. "I read about all of you. I meant to bring back the First Lieutenant, if only to draw the State Alchemist down here, but you'll have to do. Although, I don't know what use I have for you."

He heard pacing, a heavy body shifting weight. The chimera were stirring, were restless. They were nervous, and Falman made note of it.

"Perhaps I'll just have you _witness_ it. You wouldn't understand it like the brigadier general would, but your file said you have excellent memory. Remember what you see, then, and tell your superior about it."

He still couldn't see the source of the voice, but a shape was forming out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and saw…a shape.

It didn't look like anything familiar.

"I hate alchemy," the voice said. Movement caught Falman's eye and he found his visual attention drawn to the prison. One of the chimera had unlatched the door and another was dragging out a young boy, perhaps the age of ten. An Ishbalan. He was sobbing as he was brought out to the transmutation circle.

"I was taught a little alchemy before I turned to the glories of science. Imagine if you will, soldier, what it would be like if science ruled the world. We would have built up everything with our own hands and our own minds. We would have owned all the glory of success and progress, not giving it up to a power we don't understand but know how to harness. How dangerous, to tread on such dangerous ground. But you wouldn't understand; you're just a petty soldier, working for a government who can't see things that way."

Three people were sitting on the circle, and they were all sobbing children, two Ishbalans and one Amestrian.

"I thought to bring glory to science and technology by creating the ultimate weapon for a military state. A bomb, of such immense power it could end wars with a flash of light and a heat so intense it melts flesh off bones. But _I was rejected by your military_. Blind fools, so willing to draw out wars just to demonstrate alchemic power against those who decry it as heresy to their Gods! There is no god!"

Another body was dragged out, a pregnant woman with tears streaming down her pale face. She stared at Falman, reached out a feeble arm and a whimpering sound emitted from her throat as the chimera pulled her over to another spot on the circle.

"Only men and the limits of their will!"

Twenty-one people were pulled from the cage. Three groups of seven, seven locations on the transmutation circle. Falman shuddered. A horrid feeling washed over him, as if he suddenly understood what this voice was going to do.

"Use the enemy's weapon against it, don't you agree? My enemy is not alchemy, as my file believes, but the state military that denied me. It relies on alchemy for its power and strength and support, and I intend to use that alchemy to weaken it. I've learned so much when I was caught behind the Gate, Warrant Officer Vato Falman, and I learned _so_ much about everything…"

Two hands snaked their way out of the shadows and towards the circle. Falman stared at the crooked fingers, the lack of hair, and the pulsing veins. He wanted to vomit; the sight of those limbs sickened him, but he didn't have the will to accept the nausea.

Then he looked more closely at the shadowy figure, and horror suddenly gripped him as he tried to make sense of the corners and lines of the shadow. How many limbs did this…creature have?

"Have you heard of equivalent exchange, soldier?" the voice asked wryly. "In order to gain something, you must give up something of equal value. Give and take. It is a vicious game. I've lost so much in order to gain all that I have now, and still I couldn't get back the bomb it took from me. My precious fission bomb…so I decided to find a way to get my bomb back. The Gate has shown me all. Foolish thing, knowing I intend one day to destroy it so the knowledge is free to all. It has taught me so much…"

The hands came down on the outer circle of the transmutation circle.

"Tell me, Warrant Officer Falman," the voice questioned lightly as voices began to shriek. "What do you know of the Philosopher's Stone?"

The twenty-one voices screamed as light from the transmutation circle streamed upward and devoured the bodies. Falman had to look away, unwilling to get himself blinded by Huskisson's alchemy.

When the light faded, he turned his head and stared at the glowing red stone at the center of the transmutation circle.

"Perfect, isn't it?" Huskisson asked wickedly as a third arm stretched and snaked forward, and picked up the Philosopher's Stone. "The Gate taught me, you know. It taught me all that I know now. Imagine such a powerful unstoppable weapon against your puny military. And once I have my fission bomb back…"

The shadow was turning, the hands vanishing, and the body was lumbering away. At least he was sure it was a body.

The shape stopped for a moment. Falman could see the hand casually tossing the Philosopher's Stone up and down, followed its faint reddish glow. There was nothing remotely distinguishable about Huskisson in the faint red light, nothing _human_.

"I need one more Stone. Use the rest of the prisoners. Don't touch the man on the other side."

Huskisson left with the stone, the chimera approached to drag out the rest of the doomed people, and Falman had to look away, helpless and angry about it.

Oh when will Brigadier General Mustang come in and stop the madness?

XXX

Something out there had told him it was time to leave his father's empire and strike out west, across the desert, and into the country beyond it.

Now crossing the desert was certainly no laughing matter, but neither was the reason why.

But they had laughed at him, when he first told them why he was leaving and what he was planning to do. Maybe it did sound ridiculous to them; when he first came up with the plan, it had sounded silly to him, but the more he reasoned with himself, the more he found a reason to believe that he could do it, that it could be done. And the key lay westward.

There was the lost city of Xerxes, for one. And then there was the country, Amestris.

Ah, Amestris. What an enigmatic country it was. It was a nation built on and thrived in warfare, and had only recently begun pursuing peaceful means of dealing with its neighbors. He remembered the delegates last spring, the men and women in their bright blue uniforms and gold braids and medals. Impressive, everyone thought.

It was in talking to one of these soldiers, during their brief stay in Xing, that he learned about the events that had wracked the nation for several years beginning with the Ishbal wars. Something about the State Alchemists. Something about the fabled Homunculi. Something about two alchemist brothers who shook up the country. Something about a red stone of immense, impossible power.

The Philosopher's Stone, Ling Yao later learned. That was why Xerxes vanished, eons ago. Someone wanted to make a Philosopher's Stone, and Xerxes vanished forever. Only the scraggly ruins remained, ruins he had stopped by with his two bodyguards as he continued westward.

Immortality. Ling must have it, if he was to earn his father's favor, and gain the throne of Xing.

XXX 

Author's Endnote: Ugh again. Thoughts? Reviews appreciated. The next chapter won't be up for _quite_ a while.


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